No Way in Hell
by BtrixMcG
Summary: Is Booth really turned on by a dominant Brennan?
1. Chapter 1

There was no way. No way in hell, he thought. For one thing, he was a red-blooded American alpha male. Second, well, there wasn't a second. The first point was good enough. There was no way he would ever admit to being turned on by a dominant female. The thing with the glasses and the librarian come-on was just a joke, he thought to himself. The ravishing Dr. Temperance Brennan with the coke-bottle glasses and the serious demeanor as a strict authoritarian bent on humiliating a cowering male patron was a hilarious bit of banter, but not his cup of tea, sexually speaking. But the more he thought of it, his casual comment had turned into something of a full-blown fantasy.

He hardly thought about the comment for the remainder of the flight back to DC from China. They had a blast having the airplane to themselves. The flight attendant was a bit miffed at being made to cater to only 3 passengers, but as soon she realized it would be easier for her too, she relaxed. Booth and Brennan talked for a long time, eventually putting the handcuffed boy behind them to sleep. They talked about their childhoods, their hopes and dreams, their shared work. They had a full-on dance party about eight hours in, their underage charge rolling his eyes at their choice of music and their dance-moves. Then they slept for a long time, side by side in first class, Seeley finally getting to stretch out his full frame in comfort. He liked settling in with her that way, saying good night and joking about stealing blankets from each other. They shared two tiny bottles of scotch before sacking out, mixing them with ice in clear plastic cups, joking about how long it might take to get drunk if you had to open multiple tiny bottles. It had become a ritual for them, this final drink, a way to clean out their heads of all the horror they had seen that day. And he liked to see her a little tipsy. She always had such amusing malapropisms. That's what she called them, anyway. He just thought she got funnier and less awkward.

When they woke, they were close to landing. She sat up, putting her seat back into its full and upright position, stretching her arms over her head, trying to pry loose the stiffness that had settled between her shoulder blades. He lay there looking at her, thinking, how can she still look so beautiful after about 36 hours in a plane, one gruesome murder, and one captured 16 year old killer later? As she took a rubber band to tie up her hair in a bun an image rushed into his head of Brennan straddling him, librarian glasses poised on the tip of her nose, clad only in a red lace bra and panties, grinding into him, repeating the words back to him he so casually tossed off to her…"Do you know the penalty for an overdue book, Mr. Booth?" His cock sprang to life at the image and he quickly shifted in his seat to avoided tenting the blanket in front of her.

"Oh, good, you're up," she said groggily, without looking at him. "I think we're landing soon. I'm going to the bathroom, if you could just move a bit to let me through." Booth froze, closing his eyes, pretending to be asleep. If he sat up now, she would see his morning buddy in all his glory. She turned to him. "Booth…" She sighed when she noticed he was still asleep. She stood, crouching under the overhead compartments and swung a leg over him. For just a split second he could feel her hover over him as she reached for the arm rest to haul herself into the aisle. His cock twitched again as if it was a hound dog that had just picked up a scent. He cracked an eye and looked at her as she walked towards the front of the plane. He always did that. Checked out her ass when he was sure she didn't know. Maybe it was a guy thing, but sneaking peeks at Temperance Brennan's ass without her realizing it had become something of a ritual. He closed his eyes again and willed his cock to behave. He tried to bring the image of the red bra and panties to his mind again. What was that dream, he thought? The images were fuzzy and undefined, but he knew one thing. It was hot. And Temperance Brennan was in charge.

In the following weeks, he had quite a few other dreams with the same theme. He could never remember the specifics, only vignettes, glimpses of what seemed to be mind-blowing sex with Bones where he was always the meek one, the submissive one, the one being done to. Like this morning, he woke with an image of himself tied to a wall, Brennan kneeling before him, teasing his cock with her mouth, licking him and driving him almost mad with wanting. He awoke before the dream could conclude satisfactorily, and he quickly stroked himself to orgasm, his mind full of Brennan riding him, owning him, making him hers.

After he finished, he sighed, sitting up on the edge of the bed. What is happening to me? he thought. Am I turning into some kind of submissive? The thought distressed him as he had a hard time thinking of himself as anything less than 100% cowboy. Think of the opposite situation, he thought. Think of dominating Bones, he thought, imagining her the one trussed to the wall as he issued the orders and gave and withheld pleasure from her. His cock, undeterred by its recent use grew hard again. He stood up, ignoring it, pleased the opposite scenario made him just as turned on.

Wait a minute, he thought. Maybe it doesn't have anything to do with being dominant or submissive or any of that crap.

Maybe it's just her.

Tbc….


	2. Chapter 2

Booth groaned, stepping into the cold shower hastily, his hard-on quickly subsiding in the onslaught of the freezing water. Again? he thought. Am I ever going to stop having these dreams? Each night this week had been the same. Spend most the day with Bones, trying not to think of her in any sexual way, if possible. Then home, a cold shower, perhaps catch some b-ball on ESPN, then off to bed, where he would lie awake for hours trying not to think of her on all fours, groaning under him. Or up against a wall where he was between her legs, feasting on her. When he finally did go to sleep after a quick yank, the dreams started in again, the ones where he was not in control. The ones where he woke with raging hard-ons that could only be relieved by furiously jacking off, imagining her riding him, her hands pinning his against the head board.

He turned off the shower and toweled off, wondering glumly if this day was going to be like the rest of the week. He wiped the condensation off the mirror and took a good hard look at himself. He looked and felt like shit. He was sore from jacking off so much and he had gigantic bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep. He was turning into some weird pervert and it had to stop. He ran a hand over his face and stood up straighter. That's it. No more. I just have to try and put all thoughts of Bones out of my head, he thought. I can do it. I was a Ranger, for Christ's sake. I can do anything.

These thoughts made him feel a bit better as he dressed and collected his belongings, cell phone, gun, and most importantly, chewing gum. He headed out to pick up coffee for Bones and himself. They were set to talk to an alleged perp around 10, but maybe they could grab some breakfast beforehand. A quick call to her let him know to pick her up at her office. She'd been in since 6, working, and was definitely interested in breakfast. He headed out to the truck, whistling an unknown tune, feeling better than he had in weeks. He could beat this.

He walked up to her office in time to catch her walking out. He stopped dead in his tracks. She was wearing a tight, blood-red wrap dress and knee-high black wedge boots. Jesus, Bones, he thought. Today of all days, you have to wear that? She must have caught him looking because she stopped in her tracks, looking down. "Do I have something on me?" she said as she inspected the front of the dress.

"No, no, you're fine," he said recovering quickly, "I'm just surprised you're so dressed up."

"Oh, I have a date after work, so I decided to wear this, then I don't have to go home and change." She walked back into her office to grab her jacket.

A date. Booth's shoulders tensed up. I'll fucking kill him.

She breezed past him, not noticing he seemed to be rooted into one spot. She turned on the stairs, looking at him with her head tilted to the side like an perplexed puppy. "Are you coming? she asked. "I'm famished."

He shook his head to clear out the unwanted thoughts and followed her, deliberately not looking at her ass sway in front of him on the way to the truck. He also did not notice the bit of thigh that peeked out from the dress as she climbed inside when he held the door open for her. And her breasts. He could not even look at her in case his eyes drifted down to that dangerous V. He kept his eyes on the road as he drove to the diner.

She told him about her date. "He's a physician with Doctors Without Borders. I'm trying not to hold it against him that he's only a medical doctor with one degree since he is doing such great nonprofit work. He's very buff, likes to work out a lot. Has big muscles." Her eyes flicked over to him. "Bigger than yours I think. Does that bother you if I say that? You shouldn't worry, you're still very masculine. He's got a Porche, did I tell you that? I've never been much for cars, but it's very cute, sits only two people. " As she droned on and on, Booth's head began to pound, unfortunately not loud enough to drown out her conversation.

"You ok?" she said. "You seem awfully tense."

He shrugged, coming back to the moment. "I'm fine. Haven't been sleeping too well lately."

"That's because you drink too much coffee in the evenings," she said, launching into an explanation of how caffeine dilates blood vessels, making more blood flow through the system, yadda yadda. He hardly heard the words she was saying, all his energy went into remaining as aloof as possible. That was the only way he would survive the day.

"So, it may be better if you drank tea in the evenings. Preferably herbal teas, like chamomile, to induce healthy sleeping rituals."

"Uh huh." He sunk down miserably into his seat, his elbow on the door of the car, his thumb and forefingers massaging his temples.

Breakfast went a little better. They talked about the upcoming perp interview. She was eager to learn more about his techniques and asked many questions about how was the best way to get to the truth when questioning a shady individual.

"So, I get that you don't just ask if they killed someone" she asked. "But if you do, can't you tell if they are lying?" She shoveled a mouthful of eggs into her mouth. The diner was busy with the morning rush, so they sat side by side on the stools. Booth was relieved he didn't have to face her cleavage during breakfast.

"Not always," he said, stirring more sugar into his coffee, "Especially not the socio-paths. Better to get them talking, catch them in a lie. But the most important thing I could tell you, is to keep the upper hand at all times."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You need to remain in control during the interview. Don't let the perp play you or you'll end up walking out with nothing. "

"I wonder, " she paused, seeming to think about something. "What happens when you lose control?"

An image raced across his mind of Brennan bending him over a desk, hitting his ass hard with a paddle, with him crying out in pain and desire. He flushed, looking away. He coughed into his napkin, clearing his throat. "I don't know. You just don't."

She frowned. "That's not very helpful." She sat forward, putting an elbow on the table, her chin into the palm of her hand. "You mean to tell me you've never lost control?"

He was transfixed for a moment, overawed by how beautiful her face was, framed in her hand. Her eyes were wide and innocent. Trusting. Even if she was interested in him sexually, she would never do the things he imagined her doing, or the things he wanted to do to her. "Never," he said quietly, looking away.

Her eyes narrowed and an eyebrow shot up. "You're lying," she said, looking dead at him.

"What? No, I'm not." He looked deep into his coffee.

He could feel her eyes on him and hear her intake of breath to say something else. He tensed, waiting for it. But she didn't say anything. He looked over but she had turned towards the counter and was looking in her purse for her cell phone. "It's getting late," she said, looking at the time on her phone. "We should get going."

That's it? he thought. No grilling, no third degree?

She must have read his thoughts because she gently put down her cell phone on the counter and turned to him again, her lips pursed. "We'll talk about this more later."

Great, he thought, more talking.

"With Sweets. In therapy tomorrow." She scooted off the stool and headed for the ladies room.

Holy Jesus, Booth thought. I forgot all about therapy. How in hell am I going to make it through therapy?


	3. Chapter 3

They sat in silence. With his elbows rested on each armrest, his legs casually crossed at the knees, showing off his striped socks, he was the picture of calm. Only his brow showed the concentration he felt. It was slightly furrowed, giving him the impression that he was thinking hard about something. Brennan sat across from him, legs crossed as well, hands burrowed between her legs they were cold. She looked far away, like she was also thinking about something, but something unimportant, like what to have for lunch.

Sweets observed both of them and his mind processed the quiet. Is this the same silence I normally get from these two or is something else going on, he wondered. Brennan's eyes shifted to Booth momentarily then she stared straight ahead again. A lock of hair drifted into her eyes and she casually brushed it away. She sighed.

Sweets took this for an opening. "How have you two been getting along lately?" he asked.

"Fine," Booth and Brennan answered at the same time.

Normally such a synchronized response would have drawn a chuckle or a remark, but neither broke their masks of indifference.

Oh, something is definitely up, Sweets thought. I gotta get to the bottom of this. His eyes moved to the travel clock that sat on the desk between them. Good, he thought, thirty minutes to plumb these depths.

"I noticed you two didn't come in together today. Normally, you both wait outside for the other, then walk into the session together. But today, Agent Booth arrived first and came in without you. This small, seemingly insignificant gesture indicates something. What do you think it is?"

Brennan piped in immediately, "That's right. You did come in without me." Her face showed surprise. "And I was on time, which means you were early, which is also a first." She did the puppy head-tilting thing that normally Booth found so appealing. Now, it just meant more questions.

Booth snorted and sat up straighter, "This is what passes for therapy these days Sweets? I came in one full minute earlier than she did? What happens now? If I leave with her, but don't walk her to her car does that mean I'm breaking up the partnership?"

Sweets didn't flinch, "Well, does it?"

Booth grew more uncomfortable, uncrossing his legs and shifting forward. "Of course it doesn't. I'm just saying, this seems like a ridiculous line of reasoning to follow for something so small and insignificant."

"Granted," Sweets replied. "But as an investigator, I'm sure you can appreciate a gut feeling, correct?"

"This is psychology again, right?" Brennan chimed in. "No factual or scientific basis for the feeling?"

"Exactly Bones. He has no basis at all. He's just fishing."

"What exactly am I fishing for?" Sweets asked matter-of-factly.

"To find out if there are any issues in the relationship...um...partnership," Booth stumbled.

They were both staring at him, not saying anything. His mouth was hanging open after the last sentence, ready to launch into an explanation of why he said "relationship" when he meant "partnership", but he decided against it. It meant the same thing, didn't it? He closed his mouth into a hard line. Let them work out what was wrong, he thought. I don't have to say another word for the rest of the session. He sat back in the chair and crossed his legs again.

Sweets, sensing his sudden reticence, turned to Brennan. "Have you noticed anything off about you and Agent Booth lately?"

Brennan looked over at Booth nervously, trying to gauge his expression and body language. Normally, they went into the sessions somewhat prepared, letting each other know what was off limits and what was fair game. His expression yesterday at breakfast when she said she would bring up the control issue during therapy made her think it wasn't such a good idea. But she decided to chance it. "There is one thing that has been bothering me."

Booth's eyes shot over, willing her to be quiet. She purposefully did not look at him, keeping her body pointed forward towards Sweets.

"Yes?" said Dr. Sweets expectantly.

"Yesterday, during breakfast, I'm pretty sure he lied to me." She glanced over at Booth worriedly. He did not take his eyes off her, but they became darker, his expression set in immovable stone.

"What about?" Sweets asked.

She told him about their previous conversation, how Booth became nearly unresponsive when they were exploring the issue of control during interrogations. How when she asked him if he had ever lost control he said no, but she sensed something was very wrong at that moment. Did he perhaps have a bad past experience that caused him to be so reluctant to share with his partner a painful moment in his life?

They both looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to open up and admit in heart wrenching detail about some botched interrogation that ended in pain and suffering. Or maybe they were waiting for him to cry or some shit like that. He just sat glaring at them.

"Don't want to share, Agent Booth?" Sweets asked.

"There is nothing to share, Sweets, so just back off."

"Perhaps the issue of control is not work related. Perhaps it is related to your personal life. Anything come to you that might..."

Booth, finally having had enough, stood up. "Ok. That's it. I am not discussing my personal life with my _work_ partner and you Dr. Sweets. If you'll excuse me, I'm sure there are some bad guys to catch." He stepped over Brennan's legs and headed to the door. "I'm sure you two can come up with whatever is bothering me and prescribe some pill. Good luck." He opened the door with such force, he almost removed it from its hinges. He stomped out to the truck and sat in it fuming. "Why does every detail of my personal life have to be on display?" he said aloud to himself in the car. He didn't notice Brennan standing by the driver's side window. Startled, he rolled down the window, his eyes betraying every inch of anger he felt.

"I don't know what's bothering you," Brennan said coldly, "And I know you'd rather keep it to yourself, but it's starting to effect our working relationship. So either tell me what it is so we can get past it, or expect a lot more bothering from me and Dr. Sweets."

He looked into her cool blue eyes wondering how in the hell he ever got into this situation. How could he explain to her that he had never questioned his manhood, and yet he imagined being _spanked_ from the great Dr. Temperance Brennan? That he imagined her tying him to the bed post while she sexually tortured him for hours on end? He could barely admit to himself he wanted such a thing from her. How on earth could he tell her? Not going to happen old buddy, he told himself. Better think up something to get her off your trail. And fast.

"Bones," he began, his mind whirling, looking for a suitable excuse, and not finding one, decided on stonewalling further, "I'm fine. Just a little tired and cranky, that's all. There is nothing else bothering me."

She eyes narrowed on his as her brain processed his lie and whether she should call him on it. She decided against it, letting him go for now. "Ok," she said slowly, "I'm not sure I believe you, but you must have your reasons. I trust you know what you're doing." She stepped away from the truck as he started it up.

He exhaled heavily as he pulled away from the curb, rolling up the window. He saw her in the rear view mirror standing in the same spot looking at his truck pull away. Her arms were crossed in front of her, her jacket riding up on her forearms. She looked worried. And angry.

He sighed again, moving into traffic, trying to clear his mind of the events of the past hour. No, days, he thought. Or weeks. Clear his mind of the past few weeks. When Temperance Brennan didn't fill every thought, occupy every dream. When he just had a partner, albeit a sexy partner. A buddy who looked good in a pair of boots. A beautiful companion and confidant. A best friend.

This was hopeless, he thought. I think I'm falling in love with this woman.

Time to panic.


	4. Chapter 4

Brennan watched as Booth pulled away from the parking lot, her mind in turmoil. What is going on with him? she wondered. As she headed to her own car and back to the Jeffersonian, she tried to think about what might cause him to clam up like he had. Nothing was coming to her. It must be pretty important to not share with one of the most important people in your life, she thought. I'll have to think of a different way to get him to open up.

The rest of the day passed quickly. Brennan dug into some old case files that needed final reports, and ordered bones dug up near the Potomac last year to be brought up. The bones were centuries old, so no one really cared for immediate identification, but it would be fascinating to try and piece together who he was and how he met his end. After chatting with Angela for a few minutes, she headed home. Late as usual, she thought. Why could she never seem to make it out of the office before 8pm? Her mind turned again to Booth. She had called him multiple times during the afternoon without luck. She called his office and was told he was out on assignment, would she like to leave a message? No, she fumed, hanging up. She had left enough messages on his cell phone for him to know she wanted to talk to him.

At home, she put the kettle on for tea and dug out her take-out menus. When was the last time she cooked? Seemed like ages ago. All her meals lately had been with Booth or sitting at her desk. She resolved to go grocery shopping over the weekend and cook herself something gooey and comforting, like mac and cheese. She ordered food, then sat on the couch, gingerly holding her tea, which was too hot for consumption. She thought again of Booth. When had he started to act so strange, she thought? Her mind processed the last few weeks of behavior looking for some clue to his state of mind. When did it start? She's felt at arm's distance, since, when? The trip back from China? Yes, her mind firmly declared, that was it. The ride itself was fine, it was the days immediately following that she noticed a change in him. What caused him to change after coming back from China?

Her mind returned to that moment in the downstairs galley when Booth teased her about looking like a sexy librarian. Could that be it? He had never spoken to her in such a boldly sexual manner before. Could he be thinking of her in that way?

Nah, she thought, chuckling to herself. That was a joke. And while not funny at the time, she appreciated the humor later when she thought of it. And, if she had to admit it, he was damn sexy when he did it. Sidling up to her, standing a little too close for comfort, his eyes sparkling with mirth, and what? What else? She swallowed hard. Desire. His eyes, for a moment, consumed hers in desire. Or at least she think they did. Those glasses were awfully thick and hard to see out of. She put down her tea and rubbed her eyes. I must be tired, she thought. Imagining Booth making a real pass at me. She laughed to herself. The door buzzed and she rose to answer it. She tried to ignore the slight slipperiness she felt between her legs when she stood.

After having her fill of yummy Thai food, she thought a bath might be nice. She felt a little wound up from the day and felt the steam could clear her head. She refilled her tea and headed for the bathroom, checking her cell phone one last time in hopes Booth had called. Drat. She filled the bath will scalding hot water and dipped a toe in. Too hot, she thought, running some cold water to even out the temperature. She sank into the tub with a sigh. No worries here, she thought languidly, letting the steam and the hot water work out all the kinks in her muscles. She sat up and took a sip of tea. Ah, warm on the inside and out. The only thing that would make this complete would be a big, fat orgasm. She sighed, putting the tea down and immersing herself fully in the water, her head ducking under. It had been too long without sex, she realized. Her date last night had all the prerequisites, but none of the charm. As much as she wanted to take him to bed, her body would just not go along. When he kissed her, she felt cold and empty, like she had just air-kissed a stranger in a reception line. He seemed surprised by her coldness, but didn't push it. She doubted she would talk to him again. He had it all, she thought. Smart, tall, interesting career, funny, what could possibly be missing?

Her hand, of its own volition, moved to her breasts, softly pinching her left nipple, then her right. She tried to think of the good doctor, but he wasn't getting the juices flowing, so to speak. So she tried deep breathing to clear her mind as her hand slipped further into the water, down her smooth, flat stomach to the top of her mound, her fingers burrowing in to find the little button that provides so much pleasure. Her breath quickened as her other hand took up the position on her breasts, pinching the nipples harder until they were tingling. Her fingers slipped to her opening and she dipped one finger in, feeling the wetness that couldn't be washed away the hot water. Her mind searched for a suitable subject to fantasize about, but all she could think of was Booth's eyes twinkling at her and the nearness of him when he teased her about being a librarian. She struggled against the thoughts, but her body betrayed her, each time she pictured his cocky smile, or the way his arm muscles rippled when he did the slightest thing, like holding open the door for her, her pelvis tilted and rocked in pleasure and she felt herself growing more and more flushed. Booth in an undershirt, sweaty and bloody from ultimate fighting in Vegas. Booth, wrapping his arms around her when he saved her from the rogue FBI agent, how they clung to each other. The Booth who kissed her with such care at Christmas, the passion between them carefully withheld. Her hand moved faster under the water and she cried out as she thought of him as she had never seen him, holding her hands over her head, his mouth latched onto hers, his hands cradling her ass, his cock buried deep within her, pounding into her relentlessly.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh Godddddddddd!" Brennan shuddered as she felt wave after wave crash against her, nearly dragging her down into the water, drowning her. She let herself fully submerge in the water as she recovered, her hand covering her mound, gently stroking her back to reality.

She sat up abruptly, wiping the water off from her eyes and stroking her wet hair back behind her ears.

Wow, she thought. What on earth was that? The thought was barely out of her consciousness when her cell phone on the bathroom vanity rang. She hauled herself out of the tub, wrapping a towel around her mid-section, lunging for the phone.

It was Booth.


	5. Chapter 5

Brennan sat rigidly with the now cold cup of coffee between her legs. Her butt was sore from sitting so long, but it didn't look like they had much choice. The person they suspected of committing a grisly murder lived in the house across the street so they had staked out the house on the tip that he was sure to return sooner rather than later. The information they received was starting to seem suspect, since five hours in a cold car had yielded nothing but prolonged silences and polite, but empty conversation. She had successfully avoided eye contact for most of the day, embarrassed (needlessly, she told herself) by the fantasy that Booth had starred in the previous evening. Booth, for his part, also averted eye contact in his on-going battle to conquer his own inner demons, and to avoid his eyes from traveling to Brennan's low-cut shirt.

The never-ending day had actually started the night before, when, after answering Booth's call, she found herself uncovering pieces of a mutilated female victim, mid-20s who appeared to have been sexually assaulted. She was discovered in a ditch near Interstate 495, after apparently having been thrown out of a passing car like so much fast food trash. The victim was scattered over a mile and half and it took several hours to recover all the body parts. Luckily, nothing had been done to disguise the identity of the victim, so in a short time the dental records revealed it was a Kimberly Smith of Bristow, 23 years old, a receptionist at an auto repair shop in Clifton. She hadn't reported to work the day before and was last seen the previous day leaving around three for a doctor's appointment. Booth had spent most of the day tracking down an estranged boyfriend who had threatened her in the past. Hence the stakeout. However, it was 11PM and there was no sign of Rodney, or anyone else on the dimly lit street. His gray clapboard house stood wearily on its foundation, roof sagging and paint chipping, as if the antics of the current occupants had exhausted it beyond repair or redemption.

Brennan's stomach growled. She took another sip of cold coffee and made a face. The fast food dinner they had scarfed down several hours before was digested and gone. And it wasn't that satisfying to begin with, she thought. She rooted around in her purse for some sort of sustenance, a piece of gum, anything, when Booth reached across her and opened the glove compartment. Inside were several granola bars and some miniature juice boxes.

"I keep it well stocked just for these occasions. And when Parker's around." Booth said, giving her the first smile of the evening.

"Thanks," she said, returning the smile. "That Mickey D's chicken sandwich really doesn't last long, does it?" She picked out a peanut butter granola bar. "Ooo, peanut. My favorite."

"Wait," he said reaching over again, shuffling through the food, "Is that the last peanut one?"

"Yes," she said teasingly, "And it's mine."

"No way. My car, I get dibs on the peanut one."

"Forget it. Ain't gonna happen." She held the bar in her far hand over her head, wiggling it temptingly. Her eyes held a wicked gleam as she dared him to come and get it. For a moment her mind flared with a what-in-the-world-am-I-doing thought, but she pushed it away. The day had been too long and difficult, and it was too much fun to torture him.

His eyes narrowed mischievously on hers as he assessed the situation. He could either lunge for it and get caught in a dangerously close contact tug of war or he could give in gracefully. Or he could....."Hey, what's that?" He made a mock serious face and pointed out the window on her side.

She fell for it, turning slightly towards the window, realizing almost immediately her grave mistake. Booth easily reached over and plucked the granola bar out of her hand.

"No fair!" she shouted, laughing.

"We'll split it," he said, chuckling.

"Ok," she said with mock grumpiness, taking her half of the granola bar. "Juice box?" she asked, holding one out to him.

"Thanks." They pulled the plastic wrap off of the straws and sat back, eating their snack in a more comfortable silence than they had experienced all day.

"Think this guy is going to show?" she asked.

"It's still likely. The sister said he's lived here almost his whole life. No way he's splitting town without at least picking up his dog. These types always hate women and love their dogs." Periodically throughout the evening they had heard a large dog bark from inside the house. He was quiet now, maybe indicating the owner hadn't been gone so long as to leave him without food and comfort.

Brennan picked up the police report from the dashboard and began flipping through it. "She also said when the sister and this Rodney were together they were really into S&M. Rodney's supposed to be some kind of big dominant master guy. He and Kimberly would travel around to clubs with her as his 'slave'. Said she was ok with it, until Rodney became more and more demanding, asking her to do things she thought were outside the boundaries of a traditional S&M relationship."

"Like what?" Booth asked, "Like the doggy people?"

"Horsey people. No. Pony. Pony play people."

"Dog. Horse. What's the difference?" Booth waved a dismissive hand in front of his face.

"Well, the sexual position for one. 'Dog' seems to indicate the woman is on all-fours so the man can enter her from the rear." Brennan kept her eyes on the report, not noticing that Booth was frozen solid in his seat, the direction of the conversation starting to make him feel uncomfortable. "Second, people, well, girls really, tend to treat horses with respect, while treating someone like a 'dog' indicates a certain streak of cruelty."

Booth shifted in his seat. "Ok, ok. I get it. So Kimberly was a dog?"

"There is no evidence to suggest this role playing was in any way animal related."

"Right. But we are talking about a different breed of human animal that may commit murder when his dominant overtures are rebuffed. She probably grew sick of the sham of a relationship and wanted a genuine relationship with respect and real emotion." He threw the juice box into the trash bin on the floorboard. "I don't see how people can be so into this stuff," he said, as his brow furrowed and his expression soured.

She turned and looked over at him, her eyes clear and steady. "Yes, I remember our conversation from the pony play case." She swallowed hard. "And you were right but..."

His head swiveled to her quickly, "But what?"

The words were reluctant to leave her but she forced them. "But, sometimes the acting out of fantasies can bring couples closer in that they are sharing a secret world together."

"Wait," he said, choosing his words carefully, "I thought you said you agreed with me. That all the role playing is just a cover for crappy sex?" His words were clipped and spoken slowly.

"I did. I do. I think if it's the entire basis for the relationship, then that probably is crappy sex. But upon further reflection," Brennan steadied herself and kept her eyes on Booth, whose own eyes darkened. "I don't see anything wrong with it if both people are amenable and care for each other." His expression stopped her. His face was a mask of indignation. She stared at him, confused. "Why are you so angry right now? It's not like we're the ones having sex."

He looked away, out of the driver's side window. "No, you're right," his voice became tight and quiet. "You're entitled to your own opinion. We don't have to agree on this because we aren't...sexual partners."

Brennan flushed remembering her fantasy of Booth the night before. Not reality, she reminded herself. She reached over and tugged on his sleeve. "Seeley, are you ok?"

He turned away from her, his body nearly hugging the door, his focus on the empty sidewalk outside. "I'm fine," he spit out venomously.

At first she felt hurt, then confused, then angry. The emotions quickly ran through her as she tried to decide what to do. He was acting like a crazy person, one minute he was her best friend, the next a total stranger in a rage attack. She'd had enough. She grabbed his arm and swung him around. "Seeley Booth, you better tell me what the hell is going on before I smack you right between the eyes!" Her hand held on tightly to his arm, her chest rose and fell dramatically while her facial expression was all fury. Booth felt her fingers burn into his arm as he took in her flushed and immovable face. His eyes flickered down to her heaving breasts, the naked curve of which peeked over the buttons. He leaned in slightly, his eyes , locked on hers, were as black as midnight, the heat burning off him like a four alarm fire. Her tongue darted out and quickly licked her lips. Booth groaned softly. Brennan felt a low throb between her legs and a sudden ache in her chest. They moved almost imperceptively towards each other, two magnets being held a minute space apart, the attraction unbearable, the clash inevitable.

Suddenly, though, a dog began barking madly and they flew apart, across the length of the car and nearly banged into the doors. Their eyes rotated in the same direction and locked on a car slowly pulling into the driveway of Rodney's house. Booth grabbed his gun from the holster in his suit jacket and turned to face her. "Call for backup and stay in the truck. We don't know what this guy is capable of." He gave her one last look, of desire, disappointment, and something else....relief? He jumped quietly from the truck as she took out her cell phone to call for help. Her mind was not on the task as she quickly gave the dispatcher the information needed.

Her mind was reeling. Was she about to kiss Seeley Booth?


	6. Chapter 6

What was this? he thought, his third Scotch or the fourth? Whichever it was he was definitely starting to feel the effects. He looked up and concentrated on the room around him. Trendy restaurant, moody lighting, decent food, a bit too crowded for his taste, but for the conversation he was about to have it would be helpful. He looked over at the opposite chair. Napkin nicely folded, food picked at, but not really eaten. Clearly the signs of a woman watching her weight. He looked off in the direction of the restroom. How long had she been in there anyway? Seemed like forever. He wondered nervously if this date really was a good idea. It had only been a few days since he had nearly kissed his partner in his car. On a stakeout, for God's sake. He really needed to be more careful. It was very unprofessional. The next day you could have cut the tension between them with a dull knife, but they had work to do, so they did what they did best. Work.

The stake out was in vain. Kimberly's erstwhile master/boyfriend, Rodney, had an air-tight alibi on the night of her murder. Turns out Rodney had quite a harem. On the afternoon and evening of Kimberly's murder he was busy dominating at least 3 other women, all of whom spoke of him in glowing terms. At first, Booth thought, this might be some kind of Manson-follower madness, a cover, but since most of the action had occurred at a private sex club, with plenty of witnesses, Rodney was off the hook. Then Brennan confirmed the body was dismembered by a heavy duty reciprocating saw, the kind used in auto repair shops for body work. Kimberly's boss confessed quickly in interrogation. The married man with four children had an unrequited crush on Kimberly and was the shoulder she leaned on during her breakup with Rodney. When she didn't return his sexual advances, he grew enraged and hit her over the head with a wrench, killing her. In order to get her out of the shop onto a busy street, he needed to cut up the body to transport it in small pieces. Only on the highway did he realize it would be easier to throw pieces of her out of the window, that perhaps no one would notice an arm in the tall grass, or a torso half-buried in sand.

Booth shook his head in disgust. He never would get used to the horrible things people could do to each other. This was a family man, a church-going man who made an honest living. And in this story, Rodney, the slimy womanizer, was the good guy. Could this world get any more upside down? As he downed the rest of his drink, he saw his date emerge from the restroom. Discreet male glances sweeping over her figure as she walked across the room. She was a beautiful woman. That was for sure.

She was nearly his height, slim, with long blond hair, almost to her waist, her skin silky and golden. The California girl look was offset by the all leather attire she sported. She had on a black leather corset with spaghetti straps so thin they couldn't have possibly held up her ample bosom without surgical intervention. With the black skin-tight leather pants and stiletto heels, she was just this side of respectable. If she wasn't so tall and sexy, she might have been resigned to hosting body shots in a biker bar. Booth had met her while interviewing witnesses at the sex club. He had not interviewed her per se, but remembered her strutting about, looking like she owned the place. It was obvious this woman was not a slave. This was confirmed when she led a middle-aged gentleman with a blindfold around on a dog's leash. She caught his eye and smiled. Later, as she slipped a business card in his pocket, she murmured something about getting together. So far dinner had consisted of a review of their perspective careers and little else. Hers as a dominatrix, and his in the FBI. Her attempts to flirt were met with a courteous but deflecting politeness.

She sat down, ignoring her food and picked up her drink, a Long-Island iced tea and sucked it dry. She signaled the waitress for another before she turned to the man in front of her and spoke. "Ok. You bought me dinner, but obviously have no intention of taking me home or requiring my services, so what do you want?" Her voice was a low purr, belying her blunt question.

"Can I be honest?"

"Why the hell not." She didn't phrase it like a question, but an off-the-cuff statement as if she got asked it a lot. Her tea was delivered and she replaced the straw from the empty one into the new glass.

Booth swallowed hard, working up his courage. "I keep having these dreams," he told her, pausing between words, "that I'm being dominated and I like it."

"And this is a problem because...." She shook her head from side to side like she didn't understand.

Booth sat back. "Well, that should be obvious," he huffed, "I'm not really into that sort of thing."

She looked at him, eyes narrowed, as if she was trying to make a decision about him. Then her gaze softened. He was too cute to argue with. "Ok, sexy. Tell me about these dreams."

He told her of his dreams about Brennan, when they started, how they seemed to escalate, how he had been unable to stop thinking about her, both as the one in control and the one being controlled. How some of his dreams were just about them making love, or taking a drive, or hanging out with Parker. As he talked his eyes began to shine and his facial expression grew soft and gentle.

She interrupted him. "Why don't you just tell this woman you love her?"

"I..." he sputtered, "I'm not sure I do, and it's not that simple. It's complicated."

"Ohhhhh," she said, suddenly understanding. "She's married?" she said sadly.

"No."

"Getting a divorce?"

"No."

"Gay?"

"What?"

"I don't understand. Why don't you just ask her out on a date? Is she not into you?"

"Wait? What? I dunno." He looked confused, stricken. "I don't know if she's into me. It's beside the point. She's my work partner and we have a very good working relationship and I'm not going to risk that for a roll in the hay."

"Why?" she asked.

"Why? he said incredulously. "Because then we wouldn't be able to work together anymore."

"Why not?"

"It's just...shit. Look, I just want to know from you. Do you think I'm some kind of slave pervert type because I want someone to do dominate me?"

"Not someone," she said. "Her."

"Ok," he said, exasperated, "Her. I want her to do...that stuff to me." Suddenly overwhelmed, he put his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. He sat like that for a full minute. When he looked up, she was smiling at him.

"I have an idea."

"Yeah?" He was willing to try anything for relief.

She leaned forward, whispering, "Do you think I'm sexy?"

His eyes traveled down to the cleavage on display. "Yes," he said. "You're very sexy."

"So what if I told you that I'd like nothing better than to take a big strong man like you and bend him over my knee and spank him until he begs for mercy." She sat back, looking smug. "Does that turn you on?"

He considered for a minute. "Um. No. Not really."

"What if I asked you to take me out back and fuck the hell out of me in the alley? Does that turn you on?"

He smiled, catching onto her game. "Yes. A little."

"And what if his woman asked you bend over so she could paddle you? Anything?"

"Yes," he said simply, feeling himself grow hard under the table.

"And what if I told you to go over to her apartment right now and fuck the hell out of her. Does that turn you on?"

"God, yes."

She leaned in again. "You, my friend, are probably not a submissive. You're pussy-whipped. Albeit without the actual pussy thrown in. I think you want to be dominated because you don't want to be responsible for fucking up a partnership and a friendship, so you subconsciously puts the decision, and your balls, in her hands. But relationships are all about taking risks. I think you may find your need to be dominated subsiding if you actually make the move to be with this woman. " She sat back and picked up her drink. "I really should charge for this shit."

He was nodding, like he understood. "Yes, you should charge," he said distractedly. He was quiet for a moment, lost in thought. He looked up. "What now?"

"In my professional opinion....go get her."


	7. Chapter 7

No Way in Hell -- Chapter Seven

Brennan leaned into the mirror and smiled widely. Yes, she definitely had something stuck in her teeth. How long has that been there, she wondered? All through dinner? Why didn't he say anything? She took out floss from the top drawer of the vanity. While she flossed she thought about her evening. Romantic dinner, nightcap at dive bar, then back to her place for what was supposed to be sex, but she was stuck in the bathroom flossing and if she admitted it to herself, a little nervous about going back out there. She could hear him putting on music. What was it? She listened intently. Oh, Etta James. Yes, that is sexy, she thought. She rinsed her mouth out with mouthwash and leaned over to spit. When she looked up into the mirror she saw little worry lines across the top of her forehand and she took a finger and smoothed them out. The scene was all set outside. Candles lit, wine poured, romantic music. All that was required now was her attendance.

She pulled out a hairbrush and began brushing her hair in long sweeping strokes. She wondered what Booth was doing tonight. He'd been so distant since their stakeout and near kiss in the car. The next day she had been petrified to see him, but when he acted like nothing was wrong, she followed suit, her heart slowly sinking back into her chest. Where it belongs, she told herself. She put down the hairbrush and adjusted her shirt, unbuttoning the top button to show just a hint of cleavage. She loved the bra. It was one of those lift and separate jobbies that made her breasts look lush and irresistible. She spritzed on perfume and look a big breath in and out, calming herself. Time to go, she thought. Anymore time in the bathroom and he'll get the message something is wrong.

And nothing is wrong, she told herself as she walked out of the bathroom towards the dimly lit living room. She was an adult, single, and capable of making her own decisions about whom she slept with. She saw the back of his head as she headed towards the living room. She didn't think she'd ever call the doctor again after their lackluster date, but when she went through her mental rolodex on who might be a suitable dinner/sex partner, his name was near the top of the list. And so far, they had had a lovely time. I'm sure once we kiss, I'll muster more enthusiasm, she thought. Sex was usually like that for her anyway. Rarely did a partner justify much anticipation. Once in the sack, however, she remembered how pleasurable sex could be, how relaxing.

"You're back," he said, swiveling the chair around.

"I am. Sorry for the delay. You didn't tell me I had spinach in my teeth all night." She smiled and took the glass of wine he offered.

"I didn't notice," he said, and she wondered if he was lying.

They chatted about his work, and she barely noticed when he moved over from the chair and joined her on the couch. He poured her another glass of wine and told her about running from Congolese rebels with a busload of patients. She looked at his profile while he talked. He was so good looking, wavy blond hair that reached almost to his big broad shoulders, his legs muscular under his trousers. Her caught her looking and stopped talking. "See something you like?" he asked, his eyes raking her up and down.

"I..." she sputtered, not finishing her sentence because he lunged across and shoved his tongue deep into her mouth. "Mmmmrrrumppff," she tried to murmur, her eyes on the wine glass teetering in her hand, threatening to spill all over the couch. She disengaged and set the glass down on the coffee table and turned to return his kiss. She leaned down and softly took his mouth with hers, wanting gentleness. He didn't get the memo. He grabbed the back of her head and continued his previous assault on her mouth, his lips rubbery and loose against hers. She opened her eyes and looked at him, alarmed. His eyes were squeezed shut, his brow furrowed, like he was taking on a particularly unpleasant task. He tasted like wine and striped sea bass, she thought. She tried to pull away, but he gripped her head tightly, plunging in deeper.

Oh dear God, she wondered, what have I gotten myself into? At that moment, like a gift from heaven, the door buzzed from downstairs. She took advantage of the distraction to snap herself from his clutches. She nearly raced to the door, almost crying with relief when she saw Booth in the door camera downstairs. She quickly buzzed him in, then swinging her head around the corner to update the doctor. "It's, um, my partner. He wouldn't be coming by if it wasn't important."

He nodded. "No problem," he said, "I've got all night." He smiled in a way that she now realized was creepy. He swung an arm over the back of the couch and took up his wine glass in his free hand.

Brennan smoothed her hair and waited for Booth's knock. What was he doing here, she thought? Her mind immediately went to the most obvious reason: a case, it must be a case he's here about. A deeper whisper in her brain wondered if he was coming over for a different reason.

Booth pressed the door-closed button on the elevator five times before it complied. He shifted from foot to foot, anxious to see her. He had driven in a daze straight from the restaurant, his heart beating so loudly in his chest he had to turn on the radio to drown it out. He knew exactly what he was going to do. Once she opened the door he was going to sweep her up and plant the biggest kiss she had ever gotten right on her. Then he was going to skip the formalities and take her straight to bed.

He knocked softly on the door, his whole body buzzing with anticipation. She heard his soft knock and opened the door wide.

Booth stood there motionless, frozen in his spot, looking at her, unable to speak. She looked so beautiful, he thought. Her hair was a bit rumpled but in a sexy way. Her blouse was unbuttoned and slightly askew, the top of one breast peeking over a black lace bra. At the same moment that he took in her visage, he noticed the dim lighting and the music playing in the background. "Are you on a date?" he said, his voice raspy and louder than he wanted it to be.

When she opened the door, she was certain she had never seen anyone look as good as Booth did at that moment. He was in jeans and a black concert t-shirt with a black leather jacket open in the front. His hands were shoved into his front pockets as he looked her intently. They didn't speak for almost a full minute, just gazing at each other. Then she saw his eyes sweep over her, notice the surroundings, then painfully, she watched him put it all together.

"Yes," she responded, her voice a whisper.

"Oh," he said, turning to go. "I didn't mean to interrupt you."

"No!" she said, grabbing his arm pulling him into the apartment. "You must have had some reason to come by." She noticed her hand was still on his arm. He looked down, noticing it too. She dropped her hand. They stood, awkwardly, in the foyer, gazing at each other, wondering what to say. He looked past her into the living room, seeing the doctor's head bobbing up and down to the music. He looked back at her again, his eyes hardening. "I just wanted to remind you we have court tomorrow on the Petrucci case. 9 AM. Angela and Hodgins will be there too." This was a mistake, he thought. This woman doesn't want me.

She nodded, unable to speak. She felt every molecule in her body lean into him. Despite his ruddy cheeks from the wind which had picked up outside, he seemed to be generating some kind of heat that was drawing her in. As his eyes kept darting to the living room, she scanned his face, noticing the full lips, strong brow. Her gaze swept down to his chest and hips. She felt a low throb in her belly. Her mouth was dry. She swallowed.

His eyes met hers again. "And you'll bring the notes on the Smith case so we can review them while we wait?" When he finished speaking his mouth returned to a hard line on his face.

"Sure," she said, recovering herself, taken aback by his gruff manner. He was here on business, just as she initially thought. He's not here to seduce me or save me from this other man. And I don't need saving or seducing, she reminded herself, her back becoming rigid as her temper rose. I don't need him to help me, or make sure I keep my appointments, or for anything. "Is that all?" It came out harsher than she wanted it to.

His expression moved quickly from grimness to momentary surprise to anger at her response. "I was in the neighborhood, Bones. I just thought I'd drop by and remind you in person. Next time I'll just call. Or better yet, just trust you'll keep your own appointments." The last part of the sentence was spit out with venom.

"Thanks," she said coldly. "I do own a Blackberry."

"Got it. Well, have fun. Don't stay up too late," he smiled bitterly as he took one last glance into the living room. The doctor had stood up by now and was waiting to be introduced, but Booth wasn't having any of that. He moved to the door and left without saying goodbye. Brennan closed the door softly after him, leaning against it for a moment, eyes closed, lost in thought.

Booth stood at the elevator punching the call button with the same level of impatience he did when he came in, but this time it was with frustration instead of anticipation. Boy, you almost blew it, he thought. Must be the lamest excuse yet for dropping in on your partner at midnight on a school night. He ran a hand through his hair and huffed loudly. The elevator dinged and the door opened. He stepped in and as the doors closed he thought he might collapse. He held onto the railing and steadied himself. The thought of not being with her, touching her, was suddenly devastating. His heart felt heavy in his chest. Get a grip, old buddy, he told himself. It's just a dame. They come and go, don't they? You can't have her and she doesn't want you, that's why it's driving you crazy. He straightened himself, zipping up his jacket, smoothing a hand down the front.

Screw this, he thought as he exited the building, walking to his truck. What I need is a girlfriend, he told himself. Someone who could help relieve some of the suffering. Eventually I'll forget about her and it will all go back to normal.

But as he sat in his truck, keys in his hand, he felt desolate again. To never have her, to never hold her, seemed like a sentence worse than death. He looked up to her apartment, the lighting still dim, her having the time of her life. Then he put his head into his hands and cried.


	8. Chapter 8

The small room located to the side of the courtroom had a stately, majestic feel, like at one time, it was a judge's private chamber. The walls were covered in the blond wood found in some of the finer houses of the Washington D.C. area and above it rose impressively large moldings. However, benches, that once looked to be covered in an expensive fabric, were now covered in green plastic, broken and gaping stuffing in some places. The floor was cheap white tile scuffed to a dull lifeless gray by years of use and the ceiling boasted dingy acoustic tiles offset by glaring florescent lights. Besides the oak walls, the only hint of former opulence was a large portrait near the courtroom door of an unnamed distinguished older gentleman. The holding chamber for witnesses had once had charm, but after decades of dwindling district budgets and several bad renovations, it now resembled a small holding cell in a jail.

Angela, Hodgins, Brennan, and Booth had sat uncomfortably on the broken benches for hours, each lost in their own thoughts and reading materials. Angela had a copy of Art in America, her preferred waiting room publication. Hodgins was surfing on his iphone. Brennan plowed through some weighty report of unknown origin, and Booth had a newspaper. They had been in the room for several hours waiting to testify but delays caused them to miss the morning session. Now, the afternoon was getting long in the tooth and they were the only ones left to testify. They hoped they would make it in before 5 o'clock. Otherwise it would stretch into a second interminable day.

Booth pretended to read the paper, giving short attention to the front section, and a bit more attention to the sports pages. His mind, though, was elsewhere. He felt a little weird for crying in his truck last night. Crying was usually reserved for dying dogs, or worse. All his time in the world's worst situations had never produced a single tear from him. Sure, he felt sad. Maybe even felt like crying. Last night, however, he cried like a little girl. And that really pissed him off. He refused to look at Brennan for most of the day, somehow in the back of his mind blaming her for his sudden vulnerability. He made an excuse to skip lunch with the other three, claiming he needed to have a conference call with Parker's teacher. He ate a dry deli sandwich in his truck. He walked glumly back into the witness room after lunch the way some men ascend the hanging platform.

Brennan was also subdued, but for different reasons. After Booth left last night, she had spent a good hour trying to convince the doctor to leave. He seemed to think they had something special. First, she feigned a headache, then complained about needing to get up early, then finally admitted to him that she wasn't attracted to him. He didn't take it well. She assumed his advances were rarely turned down, so it must have been a blow to his ego to hear she had no interest in him, but did he really need to get so worked up? He yelled for a good ten minutes before she lost her temper and told him she would break one of his arms if he didn't leave immediately. That alone seemed to motivate him. After he left, Brennan felt more tired than she had ever felt. She thought a bath might releave her spirits, but she only had the energy to take off all her clothes and collapse in bed. Over the course of the day in the witness room, she glanced over at Booth and tried to read his stony silence, with no luck. She didn't know what his problem was, but today, she was in no mood to deal with it.

Only Angela seemed in good spirits, doing most of the talking for the group through the morning. Hodgins, who arrived late, only glared if Angela tried to talk to him. He looked hungover and out of sorts. His mood didn't improve through the morning. He uttered monosyllabic answers to most of Angela's questions.

"So, Bren honey, how was the date last night with the doctor?" Angela asked, growing tired of her magazine and restless with inactivity. Booth stiffened slightly and buried himself deeper in the newspaper.

"It was ok." Brennan didn't look up from reading her report.

Angela pressed further. "Where'd you go to dinner?"

"Someplace near the Watergate. I forget the name."

"Good food?"

"It was ok." Brennan tried to concentrate on the case in the file and not Angela's line of questioning. She hoped, eventually, she would grow tired and move on.

"Didja hook up?"

All heads in the room shot up and looked over sharply at Angela. Brennan closed the case file and spoke slowly. "I'm not going to tell you that Angela. It's not appropriate for this setting."

"Oh, so that's a yes?"

"I didn't say that."

"That's not what I said."

Booth sighed and folded his newspaper. "Oh, for God's sake, Bones, will you just tell the woman you did? It was pretty obvious from the scene I saw set last night." His voice sounded exasperated and irritable.

Brennan's flushed in anger and glared at Booth. She started to speak but Angela chimed in first. "Wait, you were at Bren's last night? Why?"

"I wanted to make sure she knew about court today. That's all." His voice and demeanor clearly told Angela not to pursue the conversation further. She arched one eyebrow in his direction, but said nothing. Brennan cleared her throat loudly, gathering their attention. "My sexual relationships are not for discussion this afternoon," she stated flatly.

"Why not," Hodgins asked, suddenly engaged in the conversation once he sensed a conspiracy. "It's not like you haven't told us about every other guy you've slept with. Why is it different with this one?"

"Maybe she really likes this one, " Angela pondered.

"I said, back off," she said sharply. They retreated back into the previous silence. Brennan's mind reeled. Hodgins was right. Why was she being so closed mouth about what happened with the doctor? They would get a good laugh out of her machinations of kicking him out. She glanced over at Booth. Was it him that was causing her to be so annoyed?

The door opened. A court clerk came in the room and called for Hodgins. Brennan glanced at her watch. 3PM. There was still a good chance they would be able to testify today and not have to come back tomorrow. What she wanted right now was to be as far away from Seeley Booth as possible.

The minutes dragged on. Angela told Brennan about her latest trip with Roxy caving in New Mexico. She was happy to see her friend so in love, but felt pangs of jealousy at the details of their everyday intimacies. Booth, newspaper now folded on his lap, sat like a hulking sculpture on the other side of the room, totally silent, eyes closed, looking like he was napping. Inside he was in turmoil. She slept with him? Here I thought, maybe there was something between us. Maybe I'm really having that break with reality that comes with PTSD. They always wondered how I made it through so many dangerous situations, mind and body intact. Perhaps it was just lying in wait for this woman to undo me.

Mercifully, Hodgins testimony was short. Angela was called next. She gathered her things, planting a big kiss on Brennan's cheek. "I'll call you later and we can talk about...you know who." She glanced over at Booth. Brennan wasn't sure if her comment was referring to Booth or the doctor.

Then there were two. They were silent for some moments, no longer reading, but lost in their own thoughts. Brennan took out a compact and dusted her nose. She swiped lip gloss across her lips and ran her fingers through her hair. When she closed the compact, she saw Booth looking at her intently. For once, he didn't look angry or distracted. He just looked at her like he wasn't sure if he knew her or not. She put the compact back in her purse.

"Are you ok?" she asked.

He didn't say anything, just kept staring at her.

"Booth?" She returned his gaze, lost momentarily in the depth of his eyes. Why was it every time she looked at him lately she felt attracted and confused and angry all at the same time? She was beginning to feel unglued, like trying to put together a puzzle with missing pieces.

Her interrupted her thoughts. "How on earth could you sleep with a scumbag like that?" He asked the question like he already knew the answer.

"Excuse me?" she said, taken aback.

"You heard me." His voice became a low growl. "That man isn't worthy of you spitting on him, and you had sex with him?" He sounded disgusted.

She looked away. Her jaw set and she slowly put her bag on the bench beside her. "You don't know what you're talking about, so just stop now."

"Why were you so demure with the others? You've told them of your sexual exploits before, why not now? I'd think it would make a good story of how you bagged a 'Doctor without Borders."

She exploded. Standing up, she marched over to him poking a finger in his chest. "It is my damn business who I sleep with Seeley Booth. I don't need to justify myself to anyone. And I would appreciate it if you would back the fuck off." Her face was red, her chest rising heavily with fury, her hair suddenly wild and wraithlike. "And another thing, why the hell do you even care?" She spit out the last words slowly and evenly.

Booth stood slowly, his demeanor stony, but clearly a fire burning underneath. They were now inches from each other. He could smell the last traces of her perfume and the sweat from sitting all day in a too hot room. "Why do I care?" he said, his voice rising.

"You heard me." She took a step closer to him. This felt dangerous, like being too close to Seeley Booth had begun to feel lately. She wanted to sock him in the mouth. Or something.

Booth growled in frustration. "I can't. I can't take this anymore." He swept down, taking her face into his hands and sealed his lips against hers. They remained like that for a infinitesimal moment, lips locked but not moving, their bodies lightly touching, her arms at her side. There was still time to back away, she thought. Then he opened his mouth and she automatically opened hers too, and as his tongue met hers, the passion she felt she could keep at bay rose to the surface and spilled over. Desire shot through her body like an exquisite pain. Her hands came up and wrapped themselves in his hair as she pressed against him, flushing as she felt the full outline of his body against hers. His chest rose and fell with hers, their breath between kisses short and bated. His hands moved to her neck, then her shoulders, molding her to him. Chanel No. 5 and something else, like jasmine clung to her and he breathed in her scent deeply.

She gasped as his teeth met her bottom lip and pulled gently. The ache in her belly grew and she felt a warm throb in her center. His hands roamed down her back, tracing the outline, his fingertips leaving a trail of fire along their path. She touched his shoulders and chest, slipping a hand in between buttons in an effort to feel flesh. Unsuccessful, she tugged at his shirttail, slipping a hand under his button-down and undershirt to the hard flesh of his stomach. They moaned heavily into each other's mouths as the grasping and pulling on each other intensified. His hands went further down her back to the curve of her ass, molding her to him, letting her feel how rock hard he was for her. Desire flushed through her and she abandoned herself to his kiss completely, her hands roaming freely now, pinching his nipples, trailing down his hot, hard, stomach. Her hand went to cup his cock, but he stopped her. "Uh uh uh. We're in a public place. Can't have me getting all messy can we?" he whispered against her mouth. He trailed kisses down her throat as a hand slid up to cup one breast. Her nipples hardened painfully as she arched into him. "Oh my God, Bones, I've wanted you for so long." he growled against her collarbone. She tried to speak but found she had lost the power. She guided his face back up to hers and kissed him deeply.

A noise from the courtroom brought them back to reality. Still locked together, they opened their eyes and looked at each other and finally, regretfully, disengaged and put themselves back together. "This isn't over," he growled, tucking in his shirt, looking at her as if she were lunch.

Still she said nothing, words beyond her. She just stared at him, dazed and mute until the door opened and the clerk called her name to testify.


	9. Chapter 9

No Way In Hell -- Chapter Nine

She left right after testifying, fleeing to work, burying herself in all the business of the day she had missed while waiting at the courthouse. Frequently her mind drifted to the kiss. She tried to banish the thoughts, but every time she saw his name in print on a report or remembered a situation they had been in, the memory would resurface, fresh and inescapable. She would put it firmly out of her mind again, with more resolve, but then, her fingertips would find her lips and she would notice how they felt a little bruised and sore from his 5 o'clock shadow. She would run a hand through her hair and catch a trace of his smell, where he must have run his fingers through. She lifted the collar of her blouse and sniffed deeply. Yep. Booth. She had to get out of these clothes if she was ever going to forget about what happened. But her mind kept drifting back to him and time wandered by, as she sat daydreaming about things she wouldn't remember later.

Booth had called only once. She let it go to voicemail. He didn't call again.

Around eight, she gave up on trying to work and began collecting her belongings. She threw a few folders of work into her bag. It was going to be a long night and she needed as many distractions as possible. She threw her bag over her shoulder, and with one last look around her office, she switched off the light and headed home.

Once home, she couldn't bear the thought of more takeout, so a can of soup supplied dinner. Hot tea also seemed somehow depressing, so she poured herself a glass of red wine. She absentmindedly stirred the soup with one hand and took a sip of wine with the other. She looked up at the clock. Eight thirty. Ugh, she thought. This is one of those times I wish I had a TV. Mindless channel surfing sounds pretty good right now.

She left the soup to heat and changed into jeans and a white tank top, shucking the bra and the rest of her clothes on the floor of her room. Also a first, she thought, as she trailed listlessly back to the kitchen. She always hung up her clothes, and rarely walked around in a bra.

Maybe I'm depressed, she thought, putting her hair into a rubber band. A deeper part of her brain whispered, maybe you're in love.

No, she thought, forcing the thought away. No way. I'm just....her thoughts drifted momentarily, but the sound of boiling soup brought her back to reality. She refocused. I'm depressed because I crossed a line with a friend and partner, she thought, pouring the soup into a bowl. She grabbed a spoon and her wine and sat at the dining room table. She faced large windows that looked out onto the city, a view she normally enjoyed, but tonight just made her feel more alone.

This is ridiculous, she thought. You're a grown woman. Get over it. She went to her bag and brought the files back to the table and leafed through them while stirring her hot soup. I just need to get busy and keep my mind off it, she thought. It will pass. She brought a spoonful of the still-steaming soup to her mouth and blew. At that moment the doorbell buzzed. Her hand froze in mid-air and her stomach dropped. It can't be, she thought.

She slowly put the spoon back into the bowl and went to the door. Sure enough, there was Seeley Booth standing at the front door of her apartment building, buzzing to be let in. For a moment she thought about not answering, letting him think she was out. But it was clear someone was home with all the lights on. She sighed. Be strong, she thought. Just find out what he wants and get him out of here quick.

She didn't bother looking in the mirror by the front door as she normally would if someone was coming over. Best not to look too ready, she thought. Ready for what? another part of her brain whispered.

As the elevator buzzed, she opened the door and leaned against the frame. Booth stepped out of the elevator slowly, his hands stuffed deeply into his pockets, a crease marking is forehead. He had changed from his suit, into an almost identical outfit from last night: jeans, tight black t-shirt, black leather jacket. Only the shoes where different. The previous night it was loafers, tonight it was Adidas sneakers, black with white stripes. He walked up to the door looking sheepish and apologetic. "Hi," he said, taking in her face, trying to read her expression.

"Hi," she replied, crossing her arms. At that moment she remembered she had no bra on and she flushed slightly, moving her arms up to cover her chest.

"I came over because I wanted to apologize," he said.

"Ok," she said brusquely.

He gestured inside, "Mind if we talk about this in your apartment?"

Her mind said no, but her lips squeaked out a yes. She opened the door and turned to go inside. He glanced down at her tank top and saw her breasts swing freely as she turned. Oh dear God, he thought. She's not wearing a bra. He swallowed hard and forced his eyes up to focus on the ponytail swinging on the back of her head. She led him inside to the kitchen and turned around.

"I'd offer you something to drink, but I think we should make this quick." She couldn't look at him, so she looked over his shoulder at the wall clock, feigning impatience.

"Ok," he said, taking a big breath in and out, "I probably shouldn't have kissed you today. It was totally unprofessional and crossed a very serious line, endangering our partnership and perhaps our friendship." His voice was shaky and unconvincing. As he spoke he took in her hair, unruly in its ponytail, trailing strands down the side of her face. Her arms were crossed again, covering her breasts, but instead of hiding them, she was only pushing them up, accentuating them. He took in a big breath, trying to calm himself.

"It won't happen again." As he spoke she felt her heart sink deeper and deeper into her chest, lost forever at sea. She really couldn't look at him now, as she could feel tears close to spilling down her face. Remain aloof, she thought to herself. He'll be gone soon.

He looked at her, looking away from him, feeling his heart thumping madly in his chest. "I probably shouldn't have kissed you, but I'm glad I did."

Her eyes shot over to him locking on his.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," he added, his eyes furiously scanning her face trying to get a read. She registered surprise, but little else, her mouth closed, the lips a sealed line of silence.

What the hell, he thought suddenly. The most she'll do is throw me out on my ass. He took a step closer. She didn't step back. "That was," he said quietly, "the best kiss I've ever had. Hands down." He stepped a little closer. She felt all the hair on her arms stand up at attention and felt a burning sensation in her throat. She breathed in and could smell him again, all Irish Spring and manly and she felt close to swooning.

His eyes locked on hers, he reached out a thumb and brushed her lips, lingering as she parted them. His eyes were heavy as he traced her lips with his thumb. She felt a throbbing begin in the lower half of her body and she felt her nipples harden under her tank top. He noticed too, his eyes flickering to her breasts and back up to catch her gaze in his. With infinite slowness, his thumb trailed down her jaw to her neck, tracing the length of her collarbone. His fingertips trailed further to the top of her breasts. She felt her breath come in short bursts as his thumb circled one hard nipple then the other. Her eyes closed as his hand ran down her stomach to her hip bringing her to him, closing the final space between them with burst of force. His lips crashed down on hers, his tongue assaulting her mouth. But unlike the over-aggressive kiss from the doctor, she eagerly drew him in, sucking on his tongue, nibbling on his lips, devouring him. He tasted minty, like chewing gum and his breath was smoky and hot, like there was a low fire burning somewhere below. Her hands reached up and steadied herself on his shoulders, her fingers spreading out on his massive shoulders. He drew both hands around her waist, deepening the kiss, folding her into him.

His mouth still latched onto hers, he backed her up until the small of her back hit the countertop, then he dropped his hands from her hips, grasping her ass with both hands, grinding her against him. She gasped at the size and hardness of him as her pelvis rocked forward to meet his thrusts. Her hands tangled in his hair as she tried to pull him closer. He reached a hand up to cup one breast, then the other, his fingers circling around her nipple. She moaned into his mouth, her hands driving down his back to dip into the waist of his jeans. His mouth left hers and trailed down her neck, sucking lightly, drawing goose bumps as he went. Her hands shucked off his jacket, reaching for his chest. He sucked in a ragged breath as her fingers found their way under his shirt to his nipples, pinching hard.

Drawing her up by the waist, he picked her up and sat her on the countertop, pulling off her tank top. Her breasts were nearly even with his mouth and he fell on them, holding them with one hand while he nipped and nuzzled with the other. They were perfect brown orbs, the darker brown of the nipples floating in a sea of paler flesh. His mouth latched onto one nipple, sucking hard, drawing her closer to him. She arched her back and cried out. She missed the feel of his hardness against her, so she reached down and felt him through the jeans. He inhaled sharply and moved to capture her mouth in his. Their eyes locked as her hands danced over his cock, wetness pooling in her panties at the size and width of him.

He stepped back, pulling his t-shirt over his head. He stepped closer to her and reaching down, keeping her eyes, he unbuttoned the top button of her jeans. She leaned back, balancing on her hands as he slipped off the jeans, leaving her clad only in pink cotton panties. He leaned forward, resting the top of his head on hers as he looked down at his hand trailing along the top of the cotton lace. The flesh at her hips and stomach tingled as his fingertips trailed along. She watched as he leaned down, nuzzling her pussy, his nose nudging her clit through the panties. Painful desire shot through her as he opened his mouth and sucked, lapping up her juices that had seeped through the fabric. His hands grasped her thighs, moving under her to cup her ass. Her fingers shoved him aside momentarily as she yanked the fabric to one side to give him better access. He fell on her again, taking long slow licks of the length of her, his tongue circling her clit, pausing to suck lightly. He inhaled her deeply, his eyes closing in ecstasy as he leaned down to kiss the bundle of nerves. She held onto his head tightly as she felt a finger slide into her pussy. It was too much to bear. She shoved him back, her hands on his shoulders, her eyes hooded and dark. He looked surprised she would stop him.

"Jeans. Off. Now."

He smiled broadly, unzipping his jeans, shoving them down to his knees. She ripped her panties off at the same time. That was enough for her. She grabbed him, shoving his boxers down, and grasped his cock in her hand. He was long, hard, and hot, and a touch of wetness shone at the tip. She longed to take it into her mouth, but that could wait. She needed him in her now. She scooted forward off the counter, putting her weight into his hands, and with one hand guiding, sank down deeply on his cock. Her hands, behind her, held the countertop as she rocked against him. He held onto her ass, pining her against the cabinets, driving himself deeper into her. Their breath was in sync as they moved together, her mouths locked, eyes fixed on each other as if this moment could be made to last forever. Silently they moved together, their bodies moving in perfect union, her nipples rubbing against his chest, the intensity driving her ever closer to orgasm.

She arched against him, quicker than she imagined she would, a cry exploding in her throat as the tide rose and she climaxed wildly. Her head thrashed madly as she rode him hard, her fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulders. "Seeley!" she cried loudly, shuddering against him as wave after wave overtook her.

He moved faster and faster, bucking the full length of his cock deeper in her. "Oh God, Temperance," he cried out deliriously. "Can I come in you?"

"Yes, yes," she whispered hoarsely, opening up her body to him completely. "Come in me!"

"Oh my God," he moaned, holding on tightly to her ass, exploding into her. His cock drove into her relentlessly as he rode through the frenzy. His head fell back and his eyes closed and she was sure she had never seen anything as beautiful and compelling. He continued to hammer into her until he was completely spent, sweat dripping off him in little rivers down his face.

He went to lift her back up the countertop, but forgetting his jeans were pooled around his knees, tripped, falling backwards. They both flew onto the floor, with Brennan landing with a thud on his chest. They looked at each other, and after ascertaining neither was hurt, burst out laughing.

His cock had fallen out of her as they fell, and she felt the loss acutely. Stretching out on the length of him, she reached up, kissing him softly on the lips. He put both hands behind his head, lifting himself up and deepened the kiss. She felt his cock, lying beside her twitch to life.

"Shall we retire to the bedroom? " she said, breaking away from his lips for a moment. "Might be a little more comfortable." She stood up, giving him a hand. He stood and took off his shoes, then his jeans and boxers. She looked down and giggled.

"What?" he asked puzzled.

"Nice socks." She smiled at him, stark naked, with only white athletic socks on.

"Yeah, well, I'm leaving them on for when I fuck you senseless." He smiled, moving closer to her.

"You wouldn't dare," she said with mock outrage.

"Watch me." He leaned over, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder. She squealed and demanded to be put down. He smacked her ass in response and headed to the bedroom.


	10. Chapter 10

She woke slowly, her mind fresh from dreaming she was wrapped in a cocoon, a butterfly in the making. She felt Booth's warm body pressed against her, an arm wrapped around her tightly, his hips glued to hers. How many times had they made love last night, she wondered. Five? Six? It felt so delicious to lose count. She had so many orgasms she couldn't begin to count those. She remembered the blow job she gave him between sessions two and three. Or was it four and five? She could tell he was nervous about asking if he could come in her mouth, so she made it easy for him. "I want you to fuck my mouth," she said, then ran her tongue around the head of his cock. He grasped her head with his hands and pummeled into her, her lips wrapped tightly around as she sucked him dry.

Her thoughts came back and she felt a familiar hardness pressing on her thigh. She glanced over her shoulder. His mouth was half open, his head flung back against the pillow. She smiled, certain he was still asleep. She moved slowly, angling her legs to envelop his cock between her thighs. She began rocking back and forth gently, his cock stroking the length of her pussy. He began to get harder and harder and suddenly she felt a hand on her hip lifting her slightly, and he entered her, her pussy slick and ripe for him. He kissed her shoulder as he surged into her. She reached down, grabbing his hand from her hip and leading it to her mouth. She pulled his middle finger between her teeth, her tongue grazing the tip. He moaned, stroking into her more deeply. He buried his face in her hair, jasmine and perfume filling his senses. Her mouth opened slightly and his finger slid in further. The pace quickened, their bodies in perfect sync, the peak near and steep. His hand left her mouth, trailing over her nipples and clutched the curve of her ass, his hips lifting them both off the bed as he plowed into her. They both cried out as he burrowed into her center, releasing into her.

Afterwards they lay spent, breathing heavy, still locked against each other. He raised his head, looking at her over her shoulder. "Um, good morning," he said shyly.

She laughed, turning to him. "Good morning yourself." She leaned over and pecked him on the lips, her eyes twinkly and bright. "That was a hell of a way to start the day".

He leaned in and nuzzled her nose with his, an Eskimo kiss. He was just about to lean in for a deeper kiss and maybe another go-around when her alarm buzzed loudly. He jumped as she leaned over and turned it off. "It's 7:30. I have an appointment in an hour with the dean." Her forehead creased in worry.

He pulled her into his arms, grinning. "That leaves just enough time for a quickie in the shower."

She smiled back. "Let's go." Jumping up they raced each other to the shower. She was first, shutting the door and holding it closed.

Laughing manically he pretended to pull the door with all his strength. "You better let me in there, or else."

With her free hand she turned on the shower, steam beginning to fill the stall. "Or else what?" She pressed her body against the door, her breasts pushed flat, her hand running down her body to her pussy. She began to touch herself, her eyes locked with his, her hips thrust backwards as if he was behind her, fucking her senseless.

He was mesmerized. Her brown nipples stiffened as she pressed herself harder against the glass door. Her mouth opened slightly and he forgot to try and pull the door and just stood there watching her pleasure herself. Then he remembered that was his job. He yanked open the door and stepped inside. "Getting started without me, are you? I think you'll pay for that."

She didn't stop rubbing herself, but arched her back, her ass tilting upwards invitingly. The water ran rivulets down her back, her body slick and inviting. He dropped to his knees, opening up her buttocks like a fresh melon. Her pussy was plump and ripe, slippery, as his tongue licked her from the center to the swollen nub and back again. She tasted and smelled like heaven, musky from the earlier sex, but clean underneath, fresh. He placed his index finger at the lowest part of the folds, rubbing circles in the sensitive area just below her pussy. As his mouth lapped up her juices, her fingers found their way down to her clit, rubbing it hard. She obviously wanted it bad, he thought as his cock stood even straighter and harder. He pushed her hands away and clamped down on the tender bump, sucking her fully into him. He heard her gasp and come so hard he thought she might throw him against the back wall of the shower.

"OH MY GOD," she shouted at the top of her lungs, her body heaving its way down, the juices flowing freely into his waiting mouth. He lapped her up a few more times before he stood up and quickly thrust his cock into her.

"Don't stop coming now," he told her, plunging into her wildly. "Come over and over and over and over..." his voice trailed off. He smacked her left ass cheek hard, riding her like a bucking bronco.

"Oh, oh, oh, yes! Fuck me harder Booth!" He hit her again, pink circles appearing on her ass as surged against him. He loved how she throbbed and buckled each time.

He disengaged and flipped her around, turning her so she was against the opposite wall. He lifted one leg and thrust into her and seared his mouth onto hers, their tongues intertwining, the heat unbearable. His other hand found a breast and they thrashed together, in perfect sync, her nails digging into his back, him lifting her slightly off the ground with each thrust.

"I'm coming!" he roared, thrusting into her ferociously. She cried out at the same time, pitching into him, the waves overcoming her.

They slowed the rhythm, staying locked together, floating back to Earth in fits and starts. He moved his lips to her cheek, chin, the curve of her neck. "Oh, Tempe," he whispered, "Tempe."

She clung to him like a life preserver in a heavy storm, never wanting to let him go. Maybe if they never parted physically, they wouldn't have to have the painfully awkward conversation that was coming.

As if they had the same thought, they broke apart suddenly, turning away from each other, surprisingly embarrassed by what they had experienced together. As if it was too sensual, too connected for two people having casual sex to experience. He turned to face her, but she shut off the water, stepping out of the tub, grabbing a towel to cover herself with before she faced him again.

"Booth. Seely. That was amazing. Thank you." Her eyes grew soft and she blushed as she met his gaze.

"Thank _you_, Temperance." He said shyly, like a schoolboy asking a girl out on a first date, as opposed to the hot sex kitten he just banged in the shower.

"I suppose I should get ready," she stated reluctantly, "I might just make it on time if I hustle."

"Hustle away," he said as he stepped out of the shower, pulling a towel around his mid-section. Her eyes roamed his muscled chest, still slick from the shower. God, he was beautiful. She turned away quickly and moved out into the bedroom to get dressed. He followed, putting on yesterday's clothes, both of them avoiding eye contact and chatting nervously about the day.

"I smell coffee," he said moving out into the kitchen, where the coffeemaker had brewed a pot on a timer.

"Pour me one," she called from the bedroom. "In a travel cup. Next to the stove."

He poured them both coffee in travel mugs, adding milk to hers, aware of the domesticity involved in such a simple act. What was she thinking right now? he wondered. Was she as blown away by the sex as he was?

For her part, Brennan had difficulty buttoning her blouse, her hands were shaking so badly. What is he thinking? she thought. Was this just another one-night stand to him? She zipped up the black pencil skirt and slipped on sling back pumps. One last look in the mirror convinced her she was well enough put together. She headed out to the kitchen, breezing past him only long enough to grab the travel mug full of coffee in his hand. "Gotta run, " she said as she raced past, stopping at the door to grab her keys and purse from the foyer table. As she opened the door she turned, saw him leaning against the counter, in the same place they had been together the night before. His shirt was rumpled, his shoes still off, his hair still tousled.

She put down her stuff and darted back into the kitchen, pressing herself against him. With both hands grabbed his cheeks and drew him to her in a soft kiss. "See you later?"

"Yes," His arms came around to hold her closer.

She broke from him and without turning back, picked up her belongings and headed out, calling out "Feel free to stay as long as you like, just shut the door behind you.". The door shut behind her and she staggered to the elevator, the wind knocked out of her. Air. She needed fresh air. She felt like fainting.

As the door closed, Booth's body sagged against the counter top. He ran a hand through his hair, his face a mask of desperation. His head was full of her, his senses overwhelmed by her, even his cock still throbbed from the thought of her. He took in a big breath.

He waited until he was sure she was out of the near vicinity, then headed out for home to change for the day, travel mug in hand.


	11. Chapter 11

After the meeting with the Dean, Brennan returned to her office, more tired than she had been in, well, it seemed like decades. She plopped down in her chair and contemplated putting her head on her desk for a quick nap. Not possible, she thought, eyeing the stack of reports and cases she had to review. Wearily, she took the top one off the stack and opened it up. Her eyes glazed over immediately and she had to force herself to focus on the work at hand. Maybe it was the lack of sleep and last night's events, but her mind kept going back to Booth. What was he doing, she wondered. Was he thinking about last night? A knock on the door interrupted her. It was Angie, sketchpad in hand, standing in the doorway.

"Hey Bren, good morning. Can you look at this sketch on the Sawyer case?" Angie breezed in the door without waiting for an answer, dropping the file into Brennan's hand. She slid into the chair in front of Brennan's desk, slouching down until her head rested on the back.

Brennan quickly surveyed the sketch. "I think the angle of the jaw should be longer, consistent with his race and age." She handed it back to Angie without another word and returned to the file sitting open on her desk.

"Okaay," replied Angie, taken aback. Her brow knitted in confusion, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Just busy and very tired."

Angie, picking up on the "tired" comment pried further. "Oh, late night last night?" she said excitedly. "I thought you were going home to get some more work done. Did you see Dr. Handsome again? Did he assault you with his tongue again?" Her eyes twinkled.

"No. Yes. I mean, about working late. Not about Dr., um, Whatever. Just tired from working." She kept her head down.

"Ok, no problem. I'll leave you alone then." She stood to leave as they heard another knock on the door. They both turned their heads at the same time to see Booth standing in the doorway, carrying something. His face was sternly set, his eyes giving off none of the casual mirth he was known for. Angie turned to look at Brennan who was frozen in place when she saw Booth. Something is going on, she thought. Did they have a fight?

Booth walked into the office and stopped midway, as if he really didn't want to get too close to Brennan's desk. She seemed so callous this morning he thought, running off like that. Hardly a goodbye. Well, she did come back and kiss me, maybe that's something, he thought hopefully. All this ran through his mind quickly, but enough time had elapsed that he realized both women were staring at him, waiting for him to say something. "Uh, I have your travel mug, just wanted to return it." He crispy stalked to her desk and planted it on the corner.

"Thank you," Brennan's tone was clipped and to the point as she grabbed the mug and moved it to the other side of her desk. What is wrong with him, she thought. Does he regret what happened? Her mind reeled in confusion, but her face remained impassive.

Angie's head tilted to the side "Why do you have one of her coffee mugs?" Her face transformed from confusion to a growing understanding as she started nodding her head, "Oh. My. God. You two got together last night!" She turned to Brennan, "That's why you're so tired! Any why he has your mug!" She smiled brightly, "How was it?" she asked excitedly.

"No!" said Brennan forcefully. She wasn't sure why it came out so harshly. She looked at Booth's face. For a moment he looked crestfallen, then his countenance hardened.

He cleared his throat. "That is incorrect Angie," he said curtly, "We didn't get together, we just..." his mind searched for a story that she would believe, "had a disagreement about my brother. Right Bones?"

"Yes." They were now facing each other, looking as if they were prepared to go to war. Brennan's hands by her side, clenched into fists and Booth standing with his arms crossed.

Angie looked back and forth between them, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Ok," she said, sensing the need to get out of the room as quickly as possible. The tension was nearly unbearable. Maybe she could convince Hodgins to join her for a quick roll in the Queen Anne bed downstairs in storage. She felt incredibly horny. She closed the door softly behind her, hoping whatever ensued between them wouldn't spill out to the rest of the team.

After the door closed, they continued to stand looking at each other grimly. Brennan spoke first. "What's your problem? she said angrily.

"Me? Problem?" he spit out. "I don't have a problem. It appears you have the problem," his voice dropped to a whisper. "You're not going to tell your best friend what happened between us? Ashamed, are we?" His body was trembling with rage.

"It's none of her business," she whisper-shouted back. "Besides, it was just a one-night stand, right? It's not important for her to know about it." As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Who knows if he considered it to be a one-night stand? She felt her body starting to respond to him against her willpower. For a moment she flashed on him arching above her, an orgasm tearing through him, crying out in pleasure. She shook her head, trying to dispel the visage.

Booth took a moment to compose himself. He was pretty sure he loved this woman and to find out it was nothing but a roll in the hay for her....it was too much for him to handle. His face betrayed nothing of the shock he felt. Years in the military had taught him to appear impassive in the most harrowing of situations. As this one was turning out to be.

"Yes," he said. "It was, as you say, a roll in the hay. She doesn't need to know about it, because it will never happen again." He paused, giving her one last chance to correct him. "Right?"

"Right," she said as her composure wavered. What is wrong with me, she thought. I've slept with plenty of men once and never had the slightest problem ending it. Of course, the sex last night was incomparable to anything I've ever experienced before. "Booth, I..."

"Forget it," he said, "As they say in the movies, it never happened." He checked his watch, putting on a forced smile as he glanced back up at her. "I gotta run." He turned on his heels and walked out briskly. Best to get the hell out of there before I say something that would really be humiliating, he thought. He felt overwhelmed with emotion, but also furious. How could last night not mean anything to her? It was certainly the best sex he had ever had in his entire life. By far. There was something otherworldly about it, spiritual if he cared to admit it. And at the same time, dirty. Just letting it all hang out, no reservations about what was and was not acceptable. Is she really the automaton everyone but me and her close friends think she is? The more he thought about it, the more angry he felt. He looked at his watch again, suddenly remembering they had Sweets in a few hours. Goddammit, he thought. This is going to be worse than the last time. Maybe I should just cancel.

After he left, Brennan closed her office door and walked slowly back to her chair, and sat, in shock. What just happened? she thought. That wasn't how it was supposed to go at all. We were supposed to laugh about it, maybe even have a repeat performance, not a fight. Did last night mean something more to him? Is that why he's so upset? Because he doesn't think it means anything to me?

Well, does it? another part of her whispered. She continued to sit there stunned, her mind and heart whirring away.


	12. Chapter 12

Brennan looked at her watch again, fuming. So far he was 15 minutes late for the session with Sweets. She could hardly contain her rage. She kept crossing and uncrossing her legs, fiddling with her watch and trying to deflect Sweet's questions. At first he had asked about where Booth was, but then, as time passed, he decided to start probing a little further with Brennan to see what she was thinking. He wasn't getting anywhere. She barely answered any of his questions, and the ones she didn't ignore she responded in monosyllables.

"Maybe we should reschedule," Sweets said worriedly. It wasn't like Booth to completely blow off a session. Unless, of course, he was having some kind of fight with Dr. Brennan. That was entirely possible considering what he saw in last week's session. He wondered if it was still related to the control issue.

"Good idea," Brennan replied, standing and grabbing her purse. She had just turned to leave when she saw Booth appear in the doorway. He greeted them both with a big smile.

"Hey, Bones, what's up? Sorry I'm so late. Car trouble." He whizzed past her and sat in his usual chair. "Ok, Sweets, what's the topic for this week? Childhood? Broken dreams? Phobias?" He chuckled.

Brennan stood, unsure if she should make a big scene and storm out, or stay. It was therapy after all, maybe she should stay. Even though, empirically speaking, there was no proof therapy had the slightest effect on a human's behavior, it was a place to talk. And talking was something they really needed to do right now. She sat back down.

Sweets sat quietly for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Can we first address why you were so late today?" He looked pointedly at Booth.

"I already told ya, Sweets. Car trouble." He smirked at him. He really hoped they couldn't tell he was fudging the truth. It wasn't car trouble  
per se, but he was dangerously low on gas. He had to stop or risk being really late. Was it his fault it took so long? Ok, maybe if he admitted it, he dawdled a bit.

"So there is no reason, other than car trouble, that has caused you to be so late?"

"Nope."

"Uh huh," Sweets replied, looking unconvinced. "Dr. Brennan, what do you think?"

"I think if he said he had car trouble, then he had car trouble." She still felt the need to back him up even though she was ready to bash him over the head with the nearest lamp. She crossed her bare legs and felt Booth's eyes dart over to them. With one glance, she immediately felt the yearning of her body, the momentary pain of unfufilled desire. I can't take this, she thought.

Last night those legs were wrapped around me for hours, he thought. He forced his eyes to focus on Sweets.

"Ok," said Sweets, deciding to forgo the line of questioning. "I think we should talk about what happened in here last week. Agent Booth, you seemed very agitated when we started talking about the subject of control and lack of control. Have you thought about that more and do you think you're ready to talk about it? " Sweets knew he was pushing him, and shouldn't really, but he felt a big breakthrough was near.

Booth looked away from them towards the window. Have I ever thought about lack of control? Booth thought. My God, when am I not thinking about it?

Brennan cut in. "I'd like to talk about something else," she said.

"Such as?" Sweets inquired.

"Anything," she said. "Anything but that. He doesn't want to talk about it and I don't think we should push him." She felt Booth turn and look at her fully for the first time during the session. She looked over at him and her eyes softened. "It's obviously something traumatic that he will reveal in his own time, not under duress from our questioning him about it." She turned back to Sweets, her back straight, her hands gripped together tightly in her lap.

Booth was quiet as he contemplated her profile. This wasn't easy for her, he could see that now. What happened between them was too momentous for even the ultra-logical Dr. Temperance Brennan to think her way out of.

Sweets, feeling out-maneuvered, tried again to restart the conversation from another tack, but it was obvious they had closed ranks and he wouldn't get any further with them. They were all silent for a moment, Booth staring at Brennan, Brennan looking down at her hands. Sweets looked at both of them, the murmur of an idea rising to the surface. Exactly! he thought. They are a couple. There is no denying something more is going on with them. The tension in the room was unbearable. But he knew better than to ask them about it now. They both looked like they were going to explode.

He decided to take a gentler tack, asking about various cases and how they had worked together on them. After a few minutes they seemed more like the old couple he knew, bantering about old times. They both seemed very relieved they didn't have to talk about what was really going on with them. The session flew by.

After the session Booth walked Brennan to her car. They hadn't spoken since leaving Sweet's office and, in the silence, they could both feel the tension seeping back between them. He held open her door and put a hand on her arm to stop her before she sat down. "Bones? Temperance?" He cleared his throat. "Will you have dinner with me tonight? I think we need to talk."

She looked down at his hand on her arm that was practically burning a wide swath through her skin. He noticed and dropped his hand. She looked up at him, her eyes quiet and tender. "Yes, Seeley. Dinner sounds great. Pick me up at 8?" She sat down in the car and turned over the engine.

"Yes," he said, closing her door. "I'll see you then." Just parting from her for a few hours was going to kill him.

She rolled down the window. "Casual or dressy?"

"Jeans. BBQ. Beer. "

"Perfect," she said with a shy smile. She rolled up her window, trying not to let him see how badly her hands were shaking. How is it he has such a powerful effect on me? she wondered.

She drove away without looking in her rearview mirror to see if he was still standing there. If she looked, if he was still there staring after as she left, she was sure she'd turn the car right around. Best to wait till tonight, when we can really talk. Don't look to see if he is still there, she said to herself. Don't look. But her eyes disobeyed her and darted to the mirror anyway.

He was still standing there.


	13. Chapter 13

The restaurant was crowded. Very crowded. The place known for the best BBQ in the DC area was always a scene. Booth and Brennan nudged forward into the waiting area, and after Booth gave his name to the hostess, they found a niche to stand in near the door. Because of all that had happened that day (and the night before) they were both feeling the need to keep a bit of distance between them until they could talk, but in the current jam of people that wasn't possible. After more people came in, another few steps together to avoid passersby, they found themselves face-to-face, inches apart. The tips of her breasts brushed the front of his t-shirt and he felt his cock immediately harden. If he had to stand this near her for very long, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from reaching for her hips and crushing her to him.

They made small talk, sensing the moment for real discussion would happen after a beer or two. Brennan, feeling herself swoon as soon as she made contact with Booth, crossed her arms in front of her, hoping it would create some distance. There was a lot they both needed to say, and touching each other was a sure fire way to avoid a much needed discussion.

The conversation faded as they both concentrated on keeping their own bodies in check. Brennan turned to survey the crowd, but her mind went back to an hour before when she was getting ready for this "date." Normally, she spent very little time getting ready for anything: throwing on appropriate clothes, running a brush through her hair and maybe putting on mascara. But today she left work early so she could get a manicure and pedicure, and after her shower, found herself rubbing down with body butter and spritzing on perfume. She tried not to think too hard about what she was doing, but it was pretty obvious once she dug out her sexiest bra and undies. She'd only purchased them at Christmas, on a whim, tired of her standard underwear fare. The crimson lace bra's deep plunge and low back seemed to ache for a dress to showcase her cleavage, but she didn't want to get too carried away. What if nothing happens? she thought. Best to not advertise my availability too much before I really know what's going on. But the thought of him and what he could do to her made her bones ache. She was tempted to lie down on the bed for a bit of self-pleasuring before going out, but decided against it. It was only going to make her think more and more about his large, rough hands, his eyes when he looked down at her, his cock thrusting away in her. She sighed deeply and slipped on the matching lace panties. Boy shorts really, which accented her long legs. She looked in the mirror. She felt totally sexy and irresistible. Was that what I want? she thought. She finished dressing with a red button down shirt, skinny jeans, and red slingback peekaboo pumps. She twisted her hair into a messy bun and secured it with a chopstick. She was ready. Ready as she would ever be.

"Booth. Party of two," a voice called out interrupting her reverie. She gazed up at Booth who was looking as far away as she was. She felt his hand on the small of her back as he led her out of the crowd to the table. She really wished he wouldn't do that. It was too distracting.

They sat down and remained quiet until the two beers were in front of them, darting glances at each other and looking away quickly. She spoke first. "Seeley, first off, I want to apologize for earlier. I didn't mean to be so abrupt and I didn't mean to deny what happened between us. It was just that..." she paused, trying to find the right words, "it's just that Angie was so salacious. At that moment I didn't want to share it with her, didn't want her..." she paused again, her throat suddenly lumpen, unable to speak, "I didn't want her belittling it." She looked down, feeling her face grow hot.

Booth nodded solemnly, his arms folded in front of him on the table, beer untouched. She looked so beautiful when she blushed. "It's ok ," he said, his demeanor softening. "It was kind of a shock, considering..." He couldn't finish the sentence. For one thing, she was so strikingly gorgeous tonight, it almost took his breath away. The understated red button down brought out all the warmth of her skin. She practically glowed. He wondered if last night had anything to do with that.

He took a breath. "Temperance, I guess I owe you an explanation for my weird behavior lately. Other than, you know, the...the..." What to call it, he wondered. Sex? No, too clinical. Making Love? Too cheesy and 70s. Get together? Ugh, too high-schoolish. Experience. That's it. "...the, uh, experience we had last night, I've been acting very defensive. It's just that," he stopped, unsure of what he was really going to tell her. Was this really the time to admit his less than masculine feelings? What if she has no intention of continuing the affair? Relationship? What to call it? Damn, he thought in frustration. He decided to just keep talking and see what came out.

He found himself talking about his time in the Gulf, the men he fought alongside, the harrowing situations he found himself in. How he needed to remain in control at all times, how hard it was for him to give up control now that, in real life, people weren't shooting at him. They ordered food and he kept talking. He talked about how he met Rebecca and really thought this was the one, only to have his heart broken. He kept talking all through dinner, both of them barely picking at their BBQ. Brennan listened intently to all of it, seeing a side of Booth she'd never seen. She could tell it was hard for him to talk about, hard for him to admit his loss of control. But something was still nagging at her.

"You've seen a lot, Seeley. More than any of us should see." But there's something else, isn't there? she wondered. Something you aren't telling me. Something more personal. She wished she didn't have to ask, but something in the way he was reminiscing and recounting his life felt like a red herring. What was it? The way he moved his eyes away from her frequently as if he was afraid to meet them? The seeming nonsequiturs between personal and private life? She had to ask. Of course if she was wrong, if there was nothing else, it might be devastating to their friendship. It was a gamble for sure.

"Seeley?" she hesitated, "Seeley, are you telling me everything? Is this, deep down, what's been bothering you lately?" Her eyes were pleading, and she hoped kind.

It was not, however, taken as kindly as she meant it to be. She could immediately see him shutting down as if he were an assembly line closing up shop for the night. First his eyes registered surprise, then dismay, and then slowly fell to half slits, his brow creasing and his mouth turning down at the corners. "What do you mean? Is this not enough for you?" he spat out, "Me, pouring out my whole history to you?"

"No, I just..."

"What?" he hissed. "You'll never stop digging, will you? Until you find out just the right piece of information?" He was livid, his hands coming up to illustrate his frustration. Deep down he was also very surprised at her intuition of knowing he wasn't giving her the whole story.

"No, Seeley," Brennan said firmly. "If you say that's everything that's bothering you, then I believe you. End of story." Her back was straight but she felt brittle, like another unkind word from him would shatter her into a million small, unsavable pieces.

He gave her a hard look, then glanced away towards the waitress. "I'll get the check," he muttered, signaling to the waitress.

"Wait," Brennan said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset," he lied, getting up to pay the bill at the register. She grabbed her purse and followed him, feeling like she was walking to her execution. She'd ruined it. Ruined it with her pestering questions. He probably would never trust his feelings with her again. How could she be so stupid?

He held open the car door for her but looked away as she slid in. They drove in complete silence, the only sound in the car was the windshield wipers scraping against the windows. The rain seems fitting, she thought, glancing forlornly out the passenger window. Occasionally she looked over at Booth, his eyes glued to the road, his mouth a long straight line, set in grudging anger.

As they pulled up to the house, Brennan thought she'd make the goodbye short and sweet. "Goodbye, Seeley. I guess I'll see you tomorrow." She felt near tears and couldn't look at him. She bolted out of the car for the front door, dodging raindrops, and once inside, was deeply thankful the elevator was open and waiting. As soon as she was upstairs she was going to put on some Nina Simone and cry her eyes out. She pressed the button for her floor and watched the doors close, feeling something close up inside her as well.

Suddenly a hand shot through the closing elevator doors. The doors reopened and Seeley Booth stood there, large and haunting, his eyes wild with anger and something else. Something more primal. He stalked into the elevator, gathering up Brennan into a passionate, all encompassing embrace. He wrapped her tightly around him, pushing her against the back wall of the elevator, his mouth descending on hers ferociously. His tongue wrapped around hers as one hand enveloped a breast and the other cupped her ass, grinding into her, staking his claim on her, making her his own. Brennan responded in kind, her hands plunging into his hair pulling him ever closer, crushed against him, loving the feel of him pressed fully against her. Their heat nearly sparked a fire in the close confines of the elevator.

The elevator began to rise. Booth, desperate to feel her skin, began unbuttoning her shirt, his mouth never leaving hers. Brennan, her mind cloudy and dazed from the kiss, shook itself free for a minute and she pushed him back. "What are you doing, Seeley? Is this the way it's going to be? More moodiness? More cold shoulder then hot sex? I can't take it that. I need some answers." She clutched her shirt closed, her face frozen in frustration and anger.

Booth took a step back looking at her intently. Then he turned and pressed the "stop elevator" button and the car came to a halt just shy of her floor. "Ok, Temp. I can't take it anymore either. I have to have you. I'm desperate for you." They leaned into each other involuntarily, drawn together by an invisible thread. "I see that I have to tell you. But first I want you to know something."

"Ok," she said gently, her eyes closing momentarily as the heat from his gaze warmed her.

"I am completely, madly, deeply in love with you." There. He said it. Now, whatever else he told her couldn't be as shocking as that, right?

Brennan's eyes flew open, her jaw dropping as her heart jumped into her mouth. "Booth, I..."

"Don't speak," he said quickly, a hand coming up to gently cover her mouth. "I have to get this out, before you say anything."

He continued. "I've had this fantasy about you for a while now that is hard to explain. Well, it isn't hard to explain really, it's just..." he spoke haltingly. "I've always had...fantasies about being with you. Ever since I've known you. Even the first time I met you I couldn't help wondering what you'd be like in bed. And maybe that's just the guy in me talking. Then, as I got to know you, grew to like you, found in you a passionate and loyal partner, I still fantasized about you. Only the fantasies were getting more vivid, and more often. Again, I was fine with this. I was spending a lot of time around a beautiful, vivacious, smart, sexy woman. What could be more natural? Then something happened, something you did made me want something else, something I didn't know I wanted...." He paused, gathering up his courage. "When I hit on you that time, on the plane, with your hair all up," he gestured to her up-do, "like it is now, I realized that I wanted you to be in control. To dominate me, I guess that's what they call it. You know," he smiled, "make me your bitch."

Brennan, now stunned into silence, could only smile back. "You want me to be your Master, uh Mistress?" she said slowly. "I thought you weren't into that sort of thing. That it was just covering up "crappy sex."

"I know. I know. Trust me, I know what I said, and I've been thinking about it ever since. That's why I've been acting so funny lately. And it's not, I promise, the only thing I want to do with you. I think you saw that the other night." He moved closer to her, pulling a strand of hair from her bun. "I want to do everything with you." He swept down, taking her mouth, gently this time, tongue firmly in check, softly exploring. She pulled away, but stayed close. Her hand wound up his arm, fingering the sleeve of his t-shirt. She looked down at their two bodies almost touching.

"I've thought about this too. I think, as long as role-play isn't the only theme of the relationship, I don't see why it can't be explored. So yes, Seeley, I'll make you my bitch." She laughed, moving into his embrace, closing up the final space between them.

"Don't get too carried away," he growled, moving her against the back wall of the elevator again. "I still like to be in charge sometimes." His mouth moved to the curve of her neck, nuzzling her collarbone.

Brennan tried in vain to speak, which was difficult as she felt every nerve ending in her body respond to him. "And sometimes neither of us is in charge." She gave up trying to talk as he wrapped her tightly in his arms.

He leaned back and restarted the elevator. The doors opened almost immediately and they flew out, lips locked, stumbling to her front door. After a fumble for the keys, they slammed the door shut and fell on each other with abandon. He backed her into the living room, over the back of the couch until he was lying on her, head nuzzling into her voluptuous cleavage, drawing soft little kisses down each globe. She sighed deeply, arching toward him, reaching down and fumbling with her buttons, until he opened up her shirt like a gift on Christmas morning. She was touched by his tenderness. He raised himself up on his elbows, helping her out of her shirt. Her breasts peeked deliciously from the red lace. They seemed to rise up of their own accord, demanding to be touched. He leaned down lightly placing soft kisses along the edge of the lace, an occasional flick of the tongue drawing the hair up on her arms. Her nipples cried out for attention and he complied, capturing one swiftly in his mouth through the lace, sucking deeply. The electricity traveled in two directions at once, to her brain where it registered surprise and pain and to her nether regions where it manifested itself as deep longing. His tongue trailed down the center of her belly to the top of her jeans where he attempted, playfully, to unbutton with his teeth.

"This is impossible, right? He chuckled.

"Completely." She stood up and standing next to the couch languidly unbuttoned her jeans, her eyes locked on his, taking her time savoring the moment. Booth sat up, stretching his arms on the back of the couch, content to enjoy the show and the unhurried pace of their lovemaking. She slowly unzipped and inched the jeans off her hips. He inhaled sharply as he got a glimpse of the red-hot lace panties, hugging her curves perfectly. She slipped the jeans off her legs and climbed onto him, straddling his waist, her breasts even with his mouth. His hands came up to cup them, his mouth feasting on them.

Suddenly, though, his hands were pulled off and over his head, held tightly together. Brennan looked down at him, her expression stern, with a glimpse of mirth in her eyes. "Mr. Booth, DO you know the penalty for an overdue library book?" She ground down onto his cock that was straining through his jeans to break free.

He laughed nervously, unsure of where this was going, but willing to run with it. "I'm not sure I do, Miss...uh...what is your name again?

"Quiet!" she said sternly. "You can call me...Miss Librarian...your mistress....the one who holds your balls," as she said this she took one hand and squeezed him gently, "in the palm of her hand".

Brennan released his hands and reaching up, plucked the chopstick from her bun, her hair cascading down in great waves, covering his face. She leaned down, kissing him softly on the lips. His hands, of their own accord, strayed again to her thighs. She sat up abruptly and pulled his hair until his head hit the back of the couch. "Keep your hands off me until I tell you can touch me? What kind of submissive are you?" she said tauntingly.

She started doing slow sensuous circles with her hips, lifting them up and then sinking down heavily on his cock. Her hands went under his t-shirt, lifting it up over his head. Her fingers found his nipples and tugged, twisting them until he grimaced in pain.

I should put a stop to this, he thought, but another part of him realized this was exactly what he wanted, what he had dreamed of. How many times had he imagined her in this exact position, over-powering him, controlling him. He realized with utter clarity this is all he ever wanted. Her. Like this.

She slid like a snake down his lap until she was on her knees before him. She reached up, unbuckling his belt buckle, laughing softly, "Cocky, huh? Let's see?" She took off his shoes and slid his jeans and boxers off his legs, leaving him completely naked and exposed. His cock stood rock hard at attention. "Looks like somebody is a little excited." She began kissing his thighs studiously avoiding any contact with his groin. She continued talking. "I'm not here to bring you pleasure," she stated matter-of-factly. "I'm here to bring myself pleasure, you're just a toy." With that, she grasped his cock in one hand and stroked upwards. His back arched upward violently and he nearly orgasmed in her hand right then and there. She was just so perfect at this, he thought as her hand moved up and down on his cock. It's so natural for her. He closed his eyes, his head dropping to the back of the couch, his hips rocking back and forth with her hand.

"Not so fast, cowboy," she said as she dug her nails into the soft skin of her thighs. He gasped in pain, his eyes flying open. For a moment he was angry. He wanted to flip her over, rip off those fancy lace panties and shove his cock deep into her and not stop until she cried out for more. But she stood suddenly, inching the panties off, unhooking the bra and lying down on the couch next to him, her legs bent and slightly open.

"It's time for you to make me come," she said curtly. "Don't screw up, or there won't be any happy ending for you." She sat up, pulling his head down to her pussy. He fell on her gladly, his hands cradling her hips as his tongue slipped into her wetness. She smelled musky like she had been turned on for a long time and the scent had lodged itself deeply inside of her. He lapped greedily, twisting his tongue into her, making his way up to her clitoris, flicking lightly with his tongue, then starting the evolution again.

"Touch me further down," she demanded. He looked up at her, surprised, without moving his mouth. Her head was flung back, her back arched. Keeping his mouth locked on her pussy, he moved a finger to the delicate rosebud of her ass. He slipped a finger in and sucked long and hard on her pussy. She reached down, holding his head and rode him through a fierce orgasm, an open boat pitching in a storm, crying out in ecstasy over and over, "Seeley, Seeley, Seeley..." When one wave came crashing down another replaced it until she gasped in exhaustion, moving his hand away from her.

She tugged on hair, pulling him up to her, all pretense of game playing over. Her eyes pleaded with him, begging him to enter her, which he did, surging up into her wetness like a sailor returning to the sea after a long spell on land. Eyes open and mouths locked together, they rocked together, their pace quickening, their bodies fused together permanently.

Wanting him deeper, she pushed him back slightly, lifting her legs to give him deeper access. He stroked long and hard into her, his eyes roaming her body, breasts bobbing, hips rocking back and forth as he moved in her. At the moment of her peak, she reached for him, drawing him down to her, enveloping him with her arms, legs, whole body. He buried himself in her, crying out in passion.

"Oh Seeley, Seeley," she cried out softly, "I love you. I love you. I love you." She buried her face in his shoulder and cried hard then, big soft tears, years in the making. She had finally found him. The one who made her feel like no other man had ever come close to making her feel. And here he was, right under her nose the whole time.

He held her as she cried, understanding that it wasn't from sadness.

After the storm of tears had passed, he sat up on his elbows looking at her. "Did you mean it? he asked. "Do you really love me?" A part of him was afraid of asking the question. What if she just said it in the heat of passion?

Her eyes gave the answer before her mouth spoke. "I do. I really do."

She pulled him down into the softest, most gentle kiss he had ever known. She was real. She was here. And she was his.


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue...Two Months Later...

This was something he never thought would happen to him. Not in his wildest fantasies and dreams had he ever expected to be turned on like this. His mind resisted but his cock did not. From the moment she mentioned the scenario, he felt himself twitch to life at just the thought of it. And here he was, handcuffed to a bolt in the ceiling, really handcuffed, no escape. Stark naked, although she had threatened to leave hiswhite athletic socks on. He was kind of sorry she didn't, because then it wouldn't seem so real. And so dangerous.

In the two months since they had been together, there had been a lot of changes. Obviously they couldn't work together as partners, but, miraculously, at the same time, the FBI decided to not allow "outsiders" to work hand in hand with agents anymore. Since they still utilized scientists at the Jeffersonian, he had almost daily contact with her. And his new partner, Abe, had no problem dragging her along to crime scenes. They still lived separately, but in lease only. They switched off apartments, where they both kept toothbrushes and changes of clothing. He was immensely happy with the pace of their relationship. And the sex. Nightly, with multiple repeats. Almost all day on weekends. He kept thinking it might burn out, but over time he only grew more hungry for her. Their bodies fit together so perfectly. He now knew every curve and dip, every hollow and bony part. They had played a bit with the control aspect, but always lightly. She could sense his reluctance to let go completely so she proceeded slowly. For her part, she loved playing the sub, always insisting he smack her harder, make her beg, tease her, and in some cases, humiliate her. She seemed to have no problem letting him take the reins and never seemed to feel as if she was being diminished in any way.

But now he had agreed to a being trussed up like a piece of meat, hung from the ceiling and completely at her mercy. This was a mistake. He was sure of it.

Brennan was fully dressed in office attire, black pencil skirt and blood red satin blouse that plunged to a V in the front. She had on black platform stilettos with bare legs. Her hair was up in a sloppy bun, delicate tendrils falling on her shoulders. Her makeup was dramatic, thick black eyeliner and blood red lips. She looked like someone to be feared.

She licked her lips, circling her prize. She loved this part. When they began a playful scenario (which is what they called it, to keep things in perspective), she would immediately slip into the character, in this case, a sadistic boss punishing an office underling. I really should have been an actress, she told herself, trailing a lone finger down Booth's side. She felt him shiver, his eyes never leaving her roaming form.

"It's come to my attention, Mr. Booth, that you have been acting inappropriately with some of the women in the office. Namely, fucking them them, ON OFFICE GROUNDS, then boasting to all your colleagues of your "conquests". Is this true?" With the last sentence she moved to face him, her eyes narrowing, her lips pursing.

"That's none of your damn business," he growled, running with his part perfectly.

"I think I'm making it my business, Mr. Booth. Or should I call you Don Juan?" She lifted a finger, jabbing it directly into the middle of his forehead.

"Well, then. Yes." He spit out, "I fucked them and it's my business who I tell."

"I disagree, Mr. Booth. I'm sure HR would be very interested in your exploits," she paused for effect, "You make quite a bit of money here, don't you?" She didn't wait for an answer. "What would you say if I told you that I could make it all go away?"

He looked at her suspiciously, "Go on," he said.

"For one session, and one session only, you will let me do to you anything I please, no matter how painful or humiliating to you. Do you agree to this Mr. Booth? After today, your record will be wiped clean and I will not interfere in your "business" again.

He cleared his throat, speaking clearly. "I agree."

"Good. Let's get started."

He smiled wickedly, "Yes. Let's."

*Smack*. Her open hand made direct contact with his cheek, reeling his head backwards. "You don't speak to me, dog. I will tell you when to speak!" He righted his head and gave her a look, as Booth, that told her she was going to pay handsomely the next time she was at his mercy.

"I see you are already aroused," she said tauntingly. She eyed his erection, the massive head swelling as she gazed at it. "You'd like me to touch it wouldn't you?"

He knew enough not to speak again, he only nodded solemnly. She dropped to her knees in front of him, her eyes gazing up with passion and mischief. With infinite slowness she reached for his cock, lightly brushing the tip with her thumb and forefinger. Her fingers trailed down the shaft to the base and up again. He growled softly, her soft touch making him ache. He longed for her to increase the pressure, relive him of his suffering. But he was sure it wouldn't be that easy. She leaned down taking the head of his cock in her mouth and sucked deeply. At the same time she reached around digging her fingernails into his ass. His hips thrust forward, his cock shooting deeper into her mouth. He gasped in pain and pleasure.

Abruptly she stopped. Standing, she stood face to face with him. "You'd like to come in my mouth, wouldn't you, dog? Is that what you did with all the women in the office? Or did you actually manage to fuck them?" As she said this, she stood close enough to him to rub his cock against the front of her skirt. Any more of this, he thought, and I won't be able to hold on.

"I assume from your silence, you were unable to pleasure them, only yourself. In that case, you will be used for my amusement without any satisfaction to you." She smiled coldly and circled him again.

Dear Jesus, Booth thought desperately, I won't be able to take this.

From behind him, he could hear her digging through a bag and placing something on the table behind him.

"First off, you need to pay for what you did. Have you ever been whipped, Mr. Booth?"

Booth dropped the mask of play for a minute, craning his head back, "You wouldn't dare."

He heard her chuckle. "Oh, Mr. Booth, you do not know me too well, do you?"

He turned his head back, thinking of what to do next. He could call it off, right? Dammit, what was the safe word again? Strudel? Pastry? Oh, yeah, apple pie. Satisfied that he could put an end to this if he wanted, he waited for the first smack. His cock pounded with an intensity he had never known. The idea that he might not receive relief for it, reeled in his thoughts.

*Smack* The belt whacked against his buttocks. A red mark immediately appeared across the whole backside. His hips shot forward, his cock straining towards the ceiling.

*Smack* Another direct hit, but this time it was accompanied by a soft caress to his back after the strike.

Blow after blow rained down on this back and buttocks, her hands roaming his body after each. Her fingers gently pinched his nipples, drifted down his hard stomach, bypassing his hard-on, to the tops of his thighs all the way down the front and back of his legs. He was close to begging her touch to be rougher, sure he would orgasm as soon as she did.

"Harder. Harder," he rasped, the last of his resolve disappearing. His head fell back, his eyes wild.

Brennan thought it would be hard for her to inflict real pain on him, but she could tell that beyond the sexual release, this was deeper and more spiritual for Booth than even he realized. He needed this. The man who was always in command, always sure of himself and what he could do, needed to feel what it was like to give up control to another person, and not be lost. As she beat him with the belt, she could feel herself getting turned on. She was doing this for him. She didn't expect to be more turned on than she normally was when seeing him naked. But her panties were sopping wet, her nipples hard and straining against the material of her blouse, her breath coming in short bated bursts. She wanted him, wanted to relieve his suffering, and her own.

She dropped the belt, pressing herself fully against his back. "Did you have enough Mr. Booth? Or should I continue?"

He didn't answer, just slumped against her, his body throbbing and begging for release.

'Is this what you want?" Her hands danced around to his front, fluttering around his cock. Suddenly she grabbed him, pulling his cock roughly as her teeth sank deeply into the back of his neck. He exploded into her hand, his eyes rolling back in his head, grunts bursting from his chest. They rocked together until he collapsed against her.

He heard a click of a lock then felt his hands being released. She guided him to the floor, turning him on his back. His cock was already hard and waiting for her, so she swiftly straddled him, sinking down on him. He filled her completely. His arms, nearly numb from being held up for so long, gently gripped her hips, letting her ride him. It didn't take long until she cried out, falling on his chest, her hair coming undone, flowing over him. He felt himself coming again, for what felt like might be his last orgasm before he perished from happiness. She was everything he had ever wanted. A friend, a confidant, a partner, a tiger in the sack. And the one person he could trust. Trust with this. Trust with every terrible thing that had ever happened to him.

They lay still, bathing in the glow surrounding them. Brennan looked up into his eyes, her gaze serious. "I hope you've learned your lesson Mr. Booth. The only person in this office you should be fucking is me." She broke out into a wide smile.

"You got it," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "You know, there is this other thing I did that was very bad."

She propped herself up on an elbow listening, "Oh, do tell. Do tell."


End file.
